


The Therapist

by tantedrago



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Mentions of Anxiety, mentions of depression, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:37:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tantedrago/pseuds/tantedrago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU written for AU week. Myka Bering is a musical therapist with a new client, the famous pianist Helena G. Wells. After her daughter's death in a bad car accident that Helena barely survived herself, the pianist suffers from a creative block. She's unable to play piano and her friends see Myka as her only hope. The problem is that - after their first meeting - Helena really doesn't want Miss Bering as a therapist, but for different reasons than one could assume.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Broken Pianist

**Author's Note:**

> This fiction was written for AU week (we all remember AU week? It was fun!). The idea is from a prompt on the imagineberingandwells blog on tumblr. This fanfiction is beta'd by the-social-recluse. As always: Thanks to her. During this whole fiction, I pretended to know things about pianos, piano music and medicine. But in fact, I don't know anything about this. I want to thank Aimofdestiny for her research on piano music for me. And I want to thank Svenja, my friend who is also a medicine student, for answering all the question I had about Helena's condition in this fiction.

Myka Bering walked into the lobby of the apartment tower. She looked at the fancy furniture and the portier behind the reception and sighed. It was like she had expected it. Addressing the portier she said "Myka Bering, I have an appointment with Helena Wells." He nodded. "Follow me. Her apartment has its own lift."

 _Of course it has._ Myka sighed.

She was a musical therapist on the way to her first interview with her new patient. Helena Wells was a famous pianist and composer. The woman was not only famous for her wonderful compositions and her beautiful concerts she was also infamous for being extremely eccentric, rich and rude. The therapist had watched Wells' career with interest but annoyance. It was the typical bored brilliant genius syndrome. Until that point of music history when the brilliant musician had a car accident. No one had seen the pianist since this incident three years ago. Helena Wells' daughter had died that day and with her the brilliant piano concerts all around the world. After some time Wells had started composing again, a lot actually. Composition after composition had been thrown into the world, but the beautiful woman's face wasn't seen. One year ago, the compositions had stopped and the world that admired piano music held its breath since then, waiting.

Myka Bering knew she was the fourth therapist in a row, she had read their reports, no one stayed longer than a few sessions with the broken pianist, and they didn't get very much information out of her. Helena Wells suffered from a creative block. She was unable to play piano and she was unable to compose.

The musical therapist was called by Wells' manager a few days ago. Myka knew that she wasn't their first choice, after three different therapists it was quite obvious. She was pretty new in having high ranked clients. 'Musical therapist' meant that her therapy included music and not that she only had patients who were musicians.

So far, Myka had made herself a picture of Helena Wells by studying her whole biography and her compositions. She even had watched poor Youtube videos of her concerts before the accident. It was quite sad that there was no information about what happened in her life afterwards but the therapist was confirmed in her assumption about the pianist's eccentric character. And this lobby and the fact that Helena Wells' apartment had its own lift confirmed her assumption the pianist was also very rich and about all the side effects that came with this trait.

Sighing, Myka followed the portier to the lift.

Inside, he rang a bell and a female voice emerged from the intercom. It was lacking the British accent Wells showed in interviews so the therapist assumed it wasn't her.

"Myka Bering for Helena Wells." The portier stated. After a short "Oh right, let her in." from the voice he nodded, pressed a key into the armature and wished her a nice day. Then he left Myka alone in the lift. She swallowed while watching the lift doors close.  
__________________________

In her office, Helena Wells sat behind her desk and scribbled on a paper. Her chin rested on her right hand while she listened to her friend Claudia, who currently described her last concert to her. The young girl was the lead guitarist of some famous rock band with a silly name that Helena always forgot. She was clearly desinterested in Claudia's description and her current activity showed this perfectly.

"Dude, what are you doing?" The redhead asked and took her feet from the couch. The pianist looked up and smirked. She always disliked the way how Claudia disregarded the proper use of furniture.

"I'm drawing." The pianist answered.

"Yeah, I see that. But why? I'm currently talking to you." The guitarist was indignant.

"It's practice for my piano play." Helena lied easily.

"And I should believe that?"

"Well, many pianists are ambidextrous." The explanation made Claudia roll her eyes.

"And I'm not. So with training my left hand I actually increase my piano skills."

Her friend rolled her eyes again. "Of couse you are." She sighed. "You know what would also increase your piano skills? Playing piano." The girl pointed at the grande piano to her right.

With a forced smile, Helena hold up her paper. "Do you see this? This is a caricature of you annoying me." A poorly drawn stick figure was placed on similar poorly drawn couch with her feet placed on it in the same way Claudia just had shown.

"You are hilarious." The redhead commented.

Helena smirked in reaction, took a ball made of foam material and kneaded it to train her left hand.

The door opened and the pianist's personal assistant walked in, serving Helena tea.

"Leena!" Claudia smiled. "It's so nice to see you. I would like to request one of your perfectly made ice teas, if you don't mind."

Leena smiled at the redhead. "Firstly, I'm no servant, Claudia. If you want ice tea, the kitchen is the left door in the hall. Secondly, I think it's the best if you go home now, H.G.'s therapist has arrived."

This announcement caused a groan from the pianist. "Another one? I'm going to kill Charles."

The assistant shook her head. "I think killing your brother and manager is not the best idea considering your current problems." She made attempt to walk around the desk. "Let me help you into the living ro-"

Helena leaned into the opposite direction and continued kneading her ball. "No."

Claudia and Leena shook their heads in unison. "H.G." The redhead spoke. "I know you want to solve this problem on your own but apparently you can't."

"Yes." The assistant agreed. "Therapy isn't a bad thing. You need help, H.G."

The addressed woman looked very intensively at her foam ball while kneading it. "What is he like?"

"She." Leena stated.

The pianist snorted and faked interest. "What is she like?"

"Well, I didn't talk very much to her, because as requested I sent her into Charles' office first. Which is a completely idiotic idea, if you ask me. I think you should choose your therapist yourself."

With a groan of displeasure Leena caught the foam ball H.G. had just thrown at her. The pianist smiled brightly and stated. "Right handed."

With a quick move, Leena threw the ball back to the woman behind the desk. The pianist tried to catch the ball only using her left hand. Her assistant pursed her lips when the ball fell to the ground. She made her way around the desk to pick it up and hand it to her boss while continuing her speech.

"Myka Bering is tall, brunette, thirty something. She tried to hide the fact that she rolled her eyes when I introduced myself as your personal assistant."

Helena took the ball "She did?" She asked with a sudden interest in her voice.

"Yes. Also she seems to be a person who likes things put neatly and in order. I saw her briefcase. While waiting, she clearly judged your taste in furniture."

Claudia laughed while catching the ball H.G. just had thrown at her. "She seems to dislike your fancy stuff."

"Left handed." The pianist explained. "But you just caught the ball with your right hand to confuse me."

"Yepp." The redhead grinned and threw back. "And I actually _caught_ that thing with my weak hand." She laughed as the ball again landed on the ground.

Helena looked at the ball and frowned in thought. "Leena, tell her we have to postpone our appointment." Smiling, she looked at her assistant.

"But-"

"I don't think I'm paying you for objections, am I? Tell her I just remembered..." The pianist bit her lip. "I have an important golf play. Yes. Tell her I have to play golf with my fancy famous musician friends."

Claudia's eyes widened. "H.G., that's not only the biggest lie ever been told, that's actually pretty rude."

The composer pointed her finger at her friend. "Right?"

Leena rolled her eyes, picking the ball from the ground for a second time.  
____________________________________________

Myka walked out of Charles Wells' office. With a deep sigh she rubbed the bridge of her nose. She had found out that Helena Wells' manager was also her brother who bathed in his sister's fame and wealth. After three minutes of talking with him the therapist had completely analysed Charles' character and was disgusted. He didn't seem to be interested very much in actually helping his sister. It was more that he wanted to have her back behind the piano quickly as possible so his normal life in the upper class of music industry could go on.

"It would make me really happy if you could fix her so much that she can play a concert. Maybe with small audience. Or at least that she leaves this apartment. I want to show the world that my sister is alright and happy." Those were the sentences that displeased Myka most.

"Mr. Wells." She had asked. "Do you play an instrument?"

"Yeah, actually I play the clarinet, but I wasn't as brilliant as Helena and I seem to have more a thing for money than for music."

Myka hadn't been surprised at all. "Well, maybe you know that playing an instrument has to come from your heart if you want to make it sound beautiful. And if you want to compose and play it perfectly you also have to practice. From these files I know Miss Wells hasn't touched a piano for over a year..."

"Yeah, but she has the grande piano in her office and is free to plunk on it if she's in the mood." Charles had answered.

"I'm sure she appreciates this. But, Mr. Wells, with all due respect, I think your sister has a long way to walk to even be able to press those keys on her piano again. I don't think we can talk in the near future about actually playing music on them, never mind giving concerts."

"Well, that's why I called you, right?"

The whole conversation had been this frustrating and Myka hoped that her patient wasn't as stressing as her brother. As Myka closed Charles Wells' door behind her, Miss Wells' personal assistant showed up.

"Miss Bering." She softly said but her eyes spoke for her.

"Let me guess." Myka snorted. "She just has remembered another appointment and she's ever so sorry."

"Golf." The assistant stated and Myka nodded knowingly. "You seem to have made your homework."

"Yes." Myka looked at her watch. "I actually have expected this behaviour. This is why I have a meeting for lunch with a friend in 15 minutes."

The woman showed her a surprised look.

"This is normal avoidance behaviour. I'm sorry, what was your name again?" The therapist asked.

"You can call me Leena."

"That's nice. I'm Myka and I think I'm going to play Miss Wells' game for a while. Did she give you an alternative date for our appointment?" Myka asked.

"Yes, actually. She wants to see you this Friday, if you're free." Leena smiled apologetically.

The brunette opened her briefcase and pulled out a calendar to open it. "In the afternoon?"

"Yes. 3 pm would be perfect for Miss Wells." Was the answer.

"And let me guess again. She doesn't want to come into my office but I have to visit her?"

"Miss Wells dislikes to leave her apartment." Leena sighed. "It's complicated."

Myka smiled. "I didn't expect anything else."  
_____________________________________

"Who?" Pete asked, his mouth filled with the half of his sandwich. Myka scrunched her nose.

"Helena Wells."

"Who?" He asked again and the therapist sighed.

"The famous pianist and composer? Currently one of the best pianists in the world? Helena Wells? Pete, I'm making money with my piano and you are my best friend without knowing anything about music?"

"You didn't mind until now." He swallowed and took a big gulp from his coke.

"Yeah, you're right. Okay, she's a famous pianist. That means she plays piano. A piano is an instrument. It has black and white buttons which are called 'keys'. You can make music with it." Myka leaned back in her chair and sighed.

"I can actually play the piano!" Pete replied indignantly.

"I wouldn't call 'All my little ducks' actual playing, Pete." The therapist grinned.

"So she's your new patient?" Her friend asked.

"Not yet. We had an appointment for a first interview but she refused to see me."

"Oh."

"Exactly. I even think she made her excuse for this up." Myka leaned on her elbows on the table. "I think there's something going on. Nobody has seen her since her car accident."

"Maybe she's hiding something." Pete assumed.

"Like what?"

"All her skin could be burned and her face melted." He made a gesture with spreaded fingers over his face.

"Seriously? You are an idiot."

"It was just a guess." Pete took another bite from his sandwich. "So she refused to see you?"

"Yeah."

"And she's still alive?" The man faked shock.

"What should I have done? Walk into her office and make her see me?" Myka threw her head back in desperation.

"That's exactly something I usually would expect from you, Mykes. Go visit her again and then kick her piano playing ass."  
______________________________________________

On Friday at 2:58 pm Myka patiently waited in the lift to reach Helena Wells' apartment. She had thought this through and now she was ready to play. With her briefcase hold tight and mental pep talk, she stepped quickly into the apartment.

Leena stood in front of her with a softened facial expression. "Myka..." She started and the therapist knew.

"As I expected, Leena. She's still playing her game. What is it this time? Polo with the president?" Myka pursed her lips.

"Oh, she would like this explanation. But no. She said she has a meeting for tennis with an old friend."

The therapist sighed. "Of course." She looked down the hall. "And her office is this way?"

"Indeed, but I wouldn't..."

"Yeah, but I do." Myka straightened her shoulders and marched towards the office door, Leena right behind her.

_You can do this, Bering. She's just a posh Brit with a major depression who likes to boss people around and who's testing you. She plays a game and you are going to change her rules._

The pep talk helped. With a quick motion, she caused the office doors to fly open while marching in.

"Miss Wells." She said and looked at her watch. "I assume we have an appointment for a first interview. My name is Myka Bering and I think you can play tennis another time."

An object flew into her direction and dropping her briefcase, Myka caught it.

"Ambidextrous." A surprised voice with a British accent said. "Do you play the piano, Mrs. Bering?"

The therapist looked at the black haired woman behind the office desk. Two dark brown eyes bored deeply into hers. The Brit showed her something Myka would describe as a proud but surprised smirk.

"Miss Bering, and yes. I play piano and guitar." The therapist threw the ball back at Helena. "Right handed, but you're currently training your left one." She proclaimed.

The componist raised an eyebrow and pointed at the couch next to the entrance in a distance to her own desk. "Take a seat."

Myka did like she was told. Being actually able to see this woman in person had stolen her thunder. But she was in her future patient's office and this was all that mattered.

"So, Miss Bering." Helena Wells said leaning on her elbows, her hands folded. "Do you appreciate a drink?"

"Well, a coffee would be nice." Myka answered.

The pianist looked at Leena who still stood in the doorway, apparently unsure if the situation was safe or not.

"Leena, a coffee for Miss Bering would be nice. I think you can place it in the living room. We will come over, won't we, Miss Bering?" Helena was now addressing the therapist and Myka shrugged. "Why not?"

"And a scotch for me. Thanks, darling." The composer spoke.

"Of course, H.G." Leena nodded and disappeared. Myka wasn't the tiniest bit surprised that the woman in front of her preferred to drink scotch during a therapy session.

She felt those dark eyes mustering her again and looked at the Brit. "Something wrong?"

"You're my therapist, Miss Bering. Tell me."

Myka snorted. "That was funny. Miss Wells, I think we should actually get to know each other better before I can actually tell wha-"

"What a quite interesting way to express this, Miss Bering." Helena purred, her eyes never leaving the therapist's.

The American swallowed hard and lowered her gaze.

"So." The pianist said in a completely different, enthusiastic tone of voice. "To the living room, then."

Myka waited for Miss Wells to stand up, but instead, the pianist reached down and a clicking noise was heard from under the table. Helena's chair rolled back. Myka now was able to really see in what kind of chair Helena Wells was sitting. With a smirk, the pianist spun the wheels of her wheelchair to appear from behind the table.

"Are you alright, Miss Bering? You tend to stare when confused."

"Well... um... I didn't know... I mean... nobody informed me about the fact..." Myka stuttered.

"That I'm paraplegic? Well, I am." The Brit chuckled. "And I guess Charles brought you here to make me play that thing again." Helena pointed at her grande piano. "And apparently I do need my legs for the pedals, so I'm quite interested in how you want to manage this." She smirked while watching the therapist lower her gaze.

"In case I do also need them for your therapy sessions, Miss Bering, I have to tell you that they're paralyzed, I'm sorry."

Myka snorted.

"Are you laughing?" Helena asked surprised.

"Yes, because I just thought about your made up excuses to delay our appointments." Myka allowed herself to look directly into the other woman's eyes. The pianist's face was unreadable for her.

"Ah, I see. Well, yes, that was indeed meant to be funny." Helena pointed at her left leg. "I wouldn't be able to do any of those sports with these, would I? But, Miss Bering, let me assure you everything else is working just fine." With a slight smile, the pianist watched the therapist blush. "To the living room, then." She said.  
__________________________________________________

"There are ways, you know." Myka stated while sipping her coffee. They sat in the big living room of the pianist's apartment. Leena had brought them their beverages. Helena emptied her scotch and looked questioningly at her. "I fear I don't know the current subject of our conversation, Miss Bering."

"I'm talking about playing the piano without using your feet." The therapist explained.

"Ah, I understand. Yes. Light barriers, headrests, pillows for the back lean of chairs, my brother bought me everything. As you maybe recognised, I'm quite rich and my brother is quite interested to make me play again. It's very inconvenient." The Brit played with the empty glass in her hands.

"In 2008 they invented a new technic with a remote control you can hide in your mouth. You handle it with your teeth by biting on it. How much pedal you use for your playing depends on how hard you bite down on the device." Myka explained.

"You do know rather a lot about playing piano while being in the wheel chair, Miss Bering." Helena replied with a surprised tone of voice.

"Well, I like to be informed as much as possible about the things that are related to my job." The American placed her empty mug on the coffee table.

"Another one?" The pianist asked.

"No thank you."

"Well, Miss Bering, you should know that I'm as much informed about those devices as you." Helena smirked but then lowered her gaze with a frown. "That's not the real problem." She sighed. "I suffer from a creative block. A big one. Being unable to actually play is not caused by my body but my mind. And this is why you're here."

"Yes." Myka sat up in her armchair and pulled out a notepad.

Later, after Helena and Myka said goodbye at the lift, Leena showed up again. She narrowed her eyes and looked at her boss.

"You like her." She stated knowingly.

Helena moved back from the lift and turned her wheelchair to face her personal assistant. "I can't work with her." She simply said.

"What?" Leena's jaw dropped to her chest. "H.G., that's the first therapist you didn't yell at after a few minutes. I can see that you like her. It's impossible that you reject her. You can't reject her. She's perfect."

"No." The pianist replied and passed her to enter her office. "You don't understand. I can't work with her _because_ I like her. How do you call this? A conflict of interests?"

In surprise, Leena turned around and watched the composer's back. She slightly shook her head, smiling.


	2. Shards

Myka sighed into her earphone. She lay on the floor of her living room, in her pyjamas, her feet on her couch. A book rested on her chest and a package of Twizzlers lay open next to her face. The therapist remembered that yesterday evening, she had taken place _on_ the couch to read. She had no idea how she had ended up here, but she knew that she was shifting her own body a lot while reading and probably, she had fallen asleep in this position. The outcome was a sore back and also a sore throat because the night had been cold. The telephone's ringing noise had woken her up and Myka had taken the call, completely confused and half asleep. Who called her on an early sunday morning?

"Bering?" She said with a muffled voice and sat up from her lying position.

"Myka..." The haggard voice of Helena Wells' personal assistant emerged from the phone. Myka could tell from the reverberation that Leena had her on loudspeaker.

"Oh come on, Leena, you gotta be kidding me! Again?" The brunette sighed. "I thought we had a great start! The first interview was good. She can't continue her game."

The assistant cleared her throat. Myka heard a voice whispering in the background but she couldn't tell to whom it belonged.

"What's her excuse this time? Baseball? Oh wait, that's not posh enough. Well, at least she made you call me before our appointment." The therapist went on and started stretching her neck.

"No, this isn't like the last time." Leena declared. There was a brief pause. "She told me to cancel your appointment completely instead of delaying it."

Myka stopped her motion. "Cancelling our session? I fear I don't understand..."

"She says she doesn't see herself working with you." The assistant explained and Myka coughed in surprise.

"She can't work with me? But our first interview was good." The therapist shook her head. She had never been really able to handle rejection very well. "I mean... okay. I can accept this, I mean, the patient has to decide if they can work with their therapist or not."

"I'm so sorry, Myk-" Leena suddenly gasped in pain.

"Is everything alright?" Myka asked.

"Well, I think..." The other woman said with a sudden greater emphasis. "That she's maybe just rejecting you as a part of her anxiety and she needs you to..." There was a brief pause. Myka again heard someone else whispering.

"To... tell her that working with you can really help her out of her misery."

Deeply in thought, Myka stared at her briefcase on the other side of the living room. "You mean it could help if I run into her office again and show her how serious I am."

Two relieved gasps emerged from the phone, one of them muffled. When Leena spoke, she seemed excited. "Exactly, Myka. I think, this would be perfect if you show up to your appointment and tell her how serious you are about working with her."

"Leena, who is the other person on the phone and do they know that Miss Wells would probably kill you two if she knew that you're trying to decide over her therapy behind her back?" Myka asked bluntly.

The other voice sighed. "Duuuude..."

"There is no other person around here." Leena spoke.

"Of course."

"And furthermore I'm Miss Wells' personal assistant. My job is to help her in situations she wouldn't be able to handle herself because of her conditions. I do believe that her depression is part of this condition." The assistant explained now more easily.

"Of course you do."

"Yes, and this is why I think you should show up regularly to your appointment and tell her how much she needs you." There was again a whisper.

"I mean, how much she needs therapy with you."

Myka sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She took the glasses off she still wore from yesterday evening's reading session. "If you really think this is a good idea, Leena, I will do it. But I do hope you and this mysterious person standing next to you know what you're up to."

The other voice now spoke. It was female and excited. "Of course we are, Miss Bering. H.G. really needs you to be here to your regular appointment."

"Who am I talking to?"

"Uhm, Claudia Donovan, Miss Bering." Was the answer.

"The lead guitarist of 'The Artifacts'?" Myka was surprised.

"Oh, you do know my band, Miss Bering! I like you! Leena, I like her."

The therapist sighed. "Okay, if you two think it's a good idea, I will visit Miss Wells on Friday."

Both women on the other side of the phone cheered.  
________________________________________________

Leena hung up the phone and looked directly at Claudia. "If you poke me ever again with your elbow, I will drop H.G.'s tea kettle on your crotch. After I poured the hot tea onto it."

Claudia looked at her in horror. "Leena, I think we have to worry about other things."

"Hm?"

"Well, if H.G. is not going to kill us after the happenings on Friday, I'm pretty sure this smartass therapist will do it." She sighed. "And I told her my name!"  
_________________________________________

"Seriously?" The portier asked while opening the lift for Myka. "But two? I know Miss Wells is rich, but this is almost ridiculous."

The therapist scrunched her nose. "What are you talking about?"

He gazed at her and shrugged. "Nothing important, I'm not here to judge her."

Myka was still confused when the lift had reached Helena Wells' apartment and Leena greeted her with a worried face, her hands shaking nervously.

"Leena, are you alright?" Myka asked.

"Me? Yes, I'm alright, everything is alright. No worries. We can do this." The assistant's voice trembled.

"Miss Donovan knows that after Miss Wells killed you both you are going to kill her, too?" The therapist chuckled and Leena nodded.

Myka placed her briefcase under her elbow and looked at the doors of Miss Wells' office. "Is she in her office or in the living room?"

"The- She's in the office."

"Well, to the office then!" Myka smiled nervously, mimicking the pianist's expression from last week.

The office doors flew open and the therapist stepped in, addressing the office desk. "Miss Wells, I think we have 3 pm appointment and I will not accept you rejecting me. You seriously need he-" She stopped, noticing the short haired blond man behind Helena Wells' office desk. "Who are you?"

"Miss Bering!" The British accented voice yelled from the couch to her right. With the help of her own elbows Helena Wells lifted herself up from her lying position, looking shocked. "What are you doing here? I told Leena to cancel our appointment!" She grabbed to her right and pulled her wheelchair closer to lift herself into it.

"I didn't want to... I mean... Who is this?" Myka still looked flabbergasted at the guy behind the composer's desk, who stood up, smiling shyly.

"This, Miss Bering, is my new therapist Mr. Jinks. We had our first interview on Monday and now we have our first real therapy session, which I rather hoped not to be interrupted." The Brit turned her wheelchair and looked at Leena, who stood in the door behind Myka looking to the ground, her gaze filled with worries. "Leena, what is going on?" The composer's tone of voice showed clearly that she was utterly furious.

Mr. Jinks had walked over to Myka and raised his right hand in front of her. "Dr. Steven Jinks, nice to meet you."

The brunette took his hand, her face still showing the same confused expression. "Dr. Myka Bering."

Miss Wells groaned. "Are we making this about academic titles now? I have a PhD in music theory and a diploma in tap dance and they are both pretty useless!" Mr. Jinks looked at Myka, shook his head and mouthed 'Lie.'

The Brit again addressed her personal assistant. "Leena! I told you to tell Miss Bering I don't want to see her anymore."

Myka felt a sting in her chest at these words and and at Miss Wells aggressive tone of voice. She stepped back from the other therapist and his patient. "Of course. There was a misunderstanding with your assistant, Miss Wells. Everything is alright. I'm a little embarrassed, but I can handle it." She turned around to leave the apartment. Her eyes met Leena's. The assistant swallowed hardly as she became aware of the tears in the therapist's eyes.

Myka shook her head. She had expected that she had to fight, but this hadjust been humiliating.  
_______________________________________________________

Helena Wells was weeks into therapy and utterly frustrated. Mr. Jinks steadily told her there was progress in this, but she didn't see it. Charles was similarly frustrated, but they didn't talk about this. After staring for an hour at the grande piano in her office this morning, HG had told Leena -who still didn't dare to fully look into her eyes, she was too ashamed of Miss Bering's humilation- to call Claudia and Artie. Arthur Nielsen was the composer's first piano teacher and knew her since she was a little child. He was still a good friend of the family and better: he used to come over to be HG's drinking mate if called. And this was what the three of them had been doing the whole afternoon and evening: Drinking Helena Wells' frustration away. She didn't see her progress in therapy, she still hadn't touched a piano, her friends had frightened that interesting woman away who had stepped into her life. And of course the pianist couldn't call Myka Bering because something inside herself was holding her back.

At some point Charles had joined their private party, but after four glasses of scotch he had fallen asleep on the couch, the whisky bottle embraced in his arms.

A mixtape of Claudia's favourite pop music was playing, however the pianist ignored her own distaste in it and rolled her wheelchair slightly up and down to the beat of the music. Her filled scotch glass was currently resting on top of her head, dangerously swaying. Helena called it ' _an experiment in structural engineering calculation_ '. Claudia had commented on it gleefully and Leena could only hardly hold the redhead back from calling _Scientific American_ to announce this experiment. The personal assistant was the only sober person in the apartment. She had made attempt to clear all the empty glasses in the living room, but there were too many. So she had given up on this task and had started playing chaperone instead.

Artie raised up from the couch. "I know this song." He slurred and walked over to the living room's piano. After a few seconds of plunking, his inebriated mind actually found the right keys to follow the music from the loudspeakers.

Helena spun her wheelchair and rolled quickly into his direction. The scotch glass fell down from her head and shattered on the ground. "Somebody touches a piano in my flat." She squealed excitedly. "It's a good thing Leena lets them steadily being pitched. I do believe if Charles was conscious he would need new pants."

Leena cleared her throat. "H.G., your glass."

"Oh, right." The pianist reached up to her head and grabbed empty space. "Where is it?"

"On the ground, broken." Claudia stated with a fading tone of voice while Leena stood up from her chair to get towels, brooms and shovel.

She handed the big broom to her boss and the shovel with the small broom to Claudia. "If you can drink you can also tidy up." The assistant said and crouched to dry the golden liquid on the ground.

When she stood up, the pianist positioned her wheelchair next to the shards and started sweeping the broom. "So broken." She commented her motion.

"Yeah, H.G., it's just a glass. No reason to get emotional over it." Claudia said when she bend down to sweep up the shards.

"My dear friend, I'm not getting emotional over a broken glass of scotch here. I'm obviously frustrated about my current condition." The composer replied.

Claudia swayingly walked out of the living room into the kitchen to bring the shards to the trash. Leena took the broom from her boss's hands and watched the woman turning around to move to the unconscious Artie at the piano.

"I have the feeling this is now my biggest enemy. It was once my best friend and now when I look at it I hate it." Helena reached out her right hand. Her index finger quickly tipped on a high C. The sound of the played note emerged into the living room. Charles groaned on the couch and nuzzled into the whisky bottle.

"The bible says..." HG slurred and pointed at Leena. "You have to love your enemies." Her assistant seemed to be impressed by the pianist's drunken philosophy but she obviously had problems following her thoughts.

Claudia walked in again and positioned herself next to Leena.

"You two were complete idiots trying to set me up with Miss Bering during my appointment with Mr. Jinks." The composer declared indignantly.

"H.G. we didn't know you had your appointment then, we just thought if she walks into your office the same way like the first time you could actually realise how much you like her." Leena explained the redhead's and her own intentions.

"To do what?" The Brit asked. "To invite her into a fancy restaurant for a date? I have problems leaving my flat, remember?"

"You could invite her and cook. You're a great cook, H.G." Leena replied with a shrug.

"Yes, H.G. your chicken madras is rad!" Claudia agreed.

"No." Helena stated and moved her wheelchair quickly towards the living room door. "We will do this differently. Leena, I need a jacket."

The redhead and the assistant looked at each other in surprise. After a few seconds of non-verbal communication, Leena shrugged and walked towards the master bed room to get the demanded piece of clothing.

As she came back, her boss had positioned herself in front of the lift doors, staring at them like she was preparing for a big fight. The guitarist stood behind her, her hands casually buried in her pockets, face confused, but attentive.

"So, what are we up to?" The redhead asked. "You can't visit Miss Bering now, it's the middle of the night and you're drunk as hell."

"I know!" Her friend said with emphasis. "I want to visit the park."

"The park?" Leena asked while handing the jacket over. "In the middle of the night?"

"The current time is perfect, because nobody will actually see me!" Helena explained. "Silly girls, I would rather prefer you not questioning my intentions so I don't have a chance to change my mind."

Claudia held up her hands. "Okay, okay. I shut my mouth."

As the lift reached the lobby, the composer made no move to leave it. Claudia and Leena exchanged an unsettled look, but then H.G. grabbed the wheels of her chair and slowly rolled out of the lift. Without hesitation, she reached the automatic doors of the apartment tower and passed them. The night portier behind the reception stared at Leena and Claudia and raised both eyebrows. They shrugged. "Miss Wells wants to catch some air." The redhead explained and Leena nodded.

"I see that. I just didn't know she actually existed." He replied.

"Are you coming?" Helena yelled back at them. "I refuse to go into the park alone."  
________________________________________

A week later on and early Monday morning, Myka parked her car in front of her doctor's office. She congratulated herself for the great positioned parking lot and stopped the engine. With a quick move, she left the car and opened her trunk to get her guitar out of it.

"A new instrument?" A female voice with a British accent said. Myka spun on her heels to find the owner of the voice on the sidewalk. Helena Wells wore black sunglasses and a long, dark grey coat. She casually leaned back in her wheelchair, a coffee holder placed in her lap. Myka realised how good the woman in front of her actually looked.

"Do you appreciate a coffee? From our first interview I know you like it black." The pianist pointed at the paper cups. The therapist stared at her in surprise and allowed her view to wander over their surroundings. She spotted Leena next to a black limousine. The personal assistant flashed a shy smile back at them.

"You made all the way from uptown to my office to bring me a coffee?" Myka asked. The Brit smiled in response. "Yes, isn't it wonderful? I also have milk and sugar, if you want to use it. Oh, and I have this extremely disgusting drink with artificial bubbles in it, too. Claudia told me by being isolated in my flat for about two and a half years I missed the perks of bubble tea, but I'm certain I shouldn't trust her taste in beverages anymore." HG's gloved hand picked up a cup from the holder and made attempt to hand it over to Myka. The curly-haired woman was still confused but took the cup with the hot liquid in it. "See it as an apology for my rather stubborn behaviour when you interrupted my session with Mr. Jinks. I know you weren't informed about my work with him." The composer explained, staring at the cups in her lap.

Myka swallowed. She was surprised about the pianist's progress. If Helena Wells really hadn't left her apartment for two and a half years, this was almost a wonder. Dr. Jinks was doing perfect work and Myka didn't want to frighten the woman back into her social isolation, so she decided to be nice. "Uhm.., well, okay, I guess. Thank you for the coffee. Apology accepted." She smiled shyly, shrugged and took a sip from the coffee.

"So is this a new guitar?" Helena asked and pointed at Myka's guitar case. The therapist looked down and smiled. "This? No this is one of my old ones. I just carry it with me for home visits."

"You do make home visits besides mine? Oh, I have to admit I'm jealous." The pianist smirked. The American tilted her head. "Miss Wells-"

"Please, darling, call me Helena." The Brit interrupted her. "Please. I don't want our relationship to stay on a professional basis."

"Yeah, I kinda guessed that since you have a new therapist, but what are you up to? Do you want to become friends with me? I'm just a-" Helena interrupted her again.

"No, Miss Bering- "

"Myka."

The pianist smiled softly and nodded. "Myka. Becoming friends with you isn't any of my intentions."

Myka's cup hovered in front of her lips. "But what-" The Brit turned her wheelchair on the sidewalk. "It was a pleasure to see you, Myka. I do hope you enjoy your coffee."

With this, she moved away, back to her assistant and their limousine, leaving the therapist alone and completely confused.


	3. Gathering up

"So, just let me sort this out." Pete said, stopping his motion to bite from his sandwich. Myka watched a piece of ham fall out of it and land on his fries.

"Sort it out, Pete, because I don't get it."

"For the last two months she visits you every Monday and every Friday morning at your office to bring you a coffee. You take it, the two of you talk a little, she smiles and smirks at you and then she leaves you entirely confused." Pete gave Myka a lecture about the facts.

"Yes!"

"And she clearly stated before she started this behaviour that she is neither interested in staying on a professional basis nor becoming friends with you." He went on and his friend nodded.

"Exactly. I don't know what this is about. She seems to see me as some part of her recovery process, a goal to reach twice a week. Like she's challenging herself to leave her apartment for bringing me coffee." Myka assumed with a shrug.

The man in front of her placed his sandwich on his plate. He didn't interrupt his eating frenzy very often for her so the therapist assumed he was about to say something important.

"Myka... Ophelia... Bering..." He started, nodding at every part of her name to give it emphasis. "For a therapist you're extremely bad at reading people."

"What? Pete, no. Reading people is my job. I'm earning money with it." Myka raised both hands in confusion. "I have no idea what she's up to."

"Okay, let me collect all my estrogen to give you the girls talk here." Her friend smiled, folded his hands in front of his plate and fluttered his eyelashes gracefully.

"Pete!" The therapists' hand dashed forward to hit his shoulder.

"Ouch! Myka, I'm trying to help you."

"Yeah, then help without being sexist, please." Myka leaned back with a huff and grabbed her mug to drink the coffee.

"Have you ever thought about the possibility that she's courting you?" Pete asked bluntly. He ducked under his hands to avoid the rain of spat out coffee showering the table.

"What?" The therapist's coffee mug rattled on the table as she forcefully put it down.

"Oh, come on, Mykes. My sandwich. Now your germs are all over it."

"What did you just say?" His friend's eyes were widened in horror.

"As I said, you're extremely bad at reading people. Or maybe you're just extremely bad at reading people who see you as a love interest." Pete explained his thoughts.

"Helena G. flipping Wells doesn't see me as a love interest, Pete!" The therapist yelled.

"Oh, does the thought about her liking you appal you so much? Is it because she's a woman?"

"What? Pete, no, it's definitely not because..."

"Is it the wheelchair, then? People tend to not see disabled people as sexual beings." He shrugged while trying to clean the coffee from his food with a napkin. "To eat or not to eat. That's the question."

"No, it's also not about the wheelchair, Pete." Myka was indignant.

"Of course it isn't. But what is it then that horrifies you so much about the thought Helena Wells could court you?" Her friend asked, clearly interested.

As she tried to form words in her mouth, Myka waved and wiggled her hands in front of him. "I.. ehm... I... It's..."

"Yeeeaaah?"

"She's Helena G. Wells! Famous pianist. One of the best pianists in the world." Myka finally said.

"And that is a problem because...?" Her friend again stared at his sandwich.

"Do you know what 'best pianist in the world' means for another pianist? I followed her career with interest. I look up to her. Maybe she's also my idol, Pete. I mean I completely disliked the eccentric and rude behaviour she showed at the climax of her career, but she's THE Helena Wells, for crying out loud!" The therapist's fist hit the table and Pete cast a worrying glance at the rattling dishes.

"And you're just a therapist." He shrugged.

"Yeah, I'm just a therapist." Her eyes widened as she looked at him. "No, Pete, I'm not just a therapist. I'm a damn good therapist actually. And I'm a good musician!"

Her friend folded his hands again and looked attentively at her. "Well, then there's just one question you have to ask yourself."

"What is it?"

"Do you like her now?" He again fluttered his eyelashes. "I mean, you disliked her being all bored genius and stuff, but could you maybe see Helena G. 'flipping' Wells so much as your love interest that you'd actually invite her in?"

"Hm?"

"I mean inviting her into your office. It's not like she's not waiting for it."

Myka gazed at him. Could it really be? If Pete was right, this was an accurate explanation for the pianist's behaviour. This was something Myka never allowed herself to think about. Not after Sam died. She hadn't allowed herself to have another love interest in her life, even if he passed away a long time ago.

"I think you totally should, Mykes." Pete played with his napkin. "I think you played solo pieces far too long now."

"Music reference, haha, Pete." The therapist rolled her eyes.

"You haven't answered the question." Her friend replied with emphasis.

Myka took a deep breath and rubbed her neck. "Maybe I could invite her into my office, yes."

Pete clapped his hands excitedly. "Well, then. Now that we talked about this, there's another question to answer."

"What is it?"

He pointed at his sandwich. "Did you brush your teeth well, today? I payed 7 bucks for that sandwich."  
_________________________________________

On Friday, Myka was ready for Helena's visit. She had actually arrived a bit earlier at her office to prepare it. Now she leaned at the door of her green Ford and waited for Helena's limousine to arrive. Since Pete had led her attention to the possibility of the pianist having feelings for her, Myka had listened to herself and to her own reactions while thinking about the beautiful woman. Yes, since Helena had started visiting her twice a week, Myka had been looking forwards to those Mondays and Fridays. She had to admit that those were indeed butterflies in her stomach. And yes, she had also been staring at the composer's full lips while the woman talked. Giving herself a complete analysis of behaviour, the therapist had to admit, that if Helena Wells really saw her as her love interest, Myka could see her as hers, too. Just in case Pete was right. But it was not like she was head over heels in love with the brilliant pianist, was it? Because Myka wouldn't allow herself to have an unreturned crush on an artist.

A shy smile danced over the therapist's face when she spotted the black limousine parking on the other side of the street. The driver and Leena jumped out to pull their boss's wheelchair out of the trunk. Quickly, the personal assistent helped the pianist out of the car and into the wheelchair. When Helena Wells placed the coffee holder with the mugs in her lap and crossed the street, Myka quickly looked to her toes.

"Myka!" The Brit sounded confused as she stopped next to her. "Have you been waiting for me?"

The therapist's heart fluttered as she looked up to face the other woman.

"Hello, Helena." She shrugged. "Maybe. I mean, I was a little early today."

"Oh, I kind of hoped you were also looking forward to my arrival, Myka. Because that would have really made me happy." The pianist smiled shyly, as she reached into her lap and handed Myka her coffee.

"This time we also have a strange smoothie." Helena explained, pointing at a plastic cup with a green liquid in it. Helena used to always bring a beverage they both could look disgustedly at and toss it in the trash afterwards.

Myka faked excitement. "Uh, which taste?"

The pianist raised her eyebrows and spoke. "Apple and green cabbage."

"Ugh, seriously, Helena. Who would drink something like this?" The American chuckled. "To the trash with it!" She took the cup out of Helena's hand and walked the few metres to the next bus stop to use the trash can there.

As she turned, she caught Helena staring at her. Their eyes met and the pianist quickly lowered hers to the ground. "Well, then, Myka. I hope you have an interesting day-"

"Helena?"

The composer quickly looked up. Her eyes glistened eagerly.

"I was looking forward to your visit." The therapist smiled softly.

"Oh."

"And I would like to invite you in. I think it's a pity that you always made your way down here and I kinda lost all my social abilities about being polite and kind and never invited you in." Myka shrugged and tilted her head. Helena seemed to struggle with her words.

"This is not necessary, Myka. I don't want to put you out or cause trou-"

"You don't."

"You surely have patients to-"

"No, actually I have a free Friday. The perks of being your own boss." The therapist explained and chuckled. "Helena, please come inside. I would like to show you my office." She said insistently.

"Thank you Myka, I would love to."

While the therapist held the door open for Helena, she allowed her eyes to meet Leena's. The personal assistant was standing at the other side of the street. She excitedly waved at Myka who shyly waved back.

"So, this is the waiting room." The therapist pointed at the room they entered. "The consulting room is actually over there, but this is room is where the patients wait for me to get-"

"You have a piano in your waiting room?" The pianist asked and pointed at the object in the corner.

"Ehm yeah, right. It's the piano on which I learned to play." Myka shrugged. "I bought it from my old teacher when I earned my first money. There's also one in the consulting room, but I really like to show my patients this one." Smiling she leaned a little over and whispered. "So I can boast a little with it."

The pianist shuddered. "So, ehm... It wouldn't be too much to ask for... I see, ...you probably don't want to..."

"To what?" Myka raised an eyebrow.

"To play on it? For me?" Helena asked and bit her lip. "I mean, I would quite enjoy hearing you play."

"Of course!" The therapist blurted out and marched towards the piano. She sat down on the chair in front of it and turned around. "Join me?" She asked hopefully.

The composer moved her wheelchair closer to the piano but held a slight distance to it, eyeing it with a slight anxious facial expression. Myka nodded, turned around and took a deep breath.

Her hands started dancing over the piano keys and the therapist could hear Helena sigh. She didn't stop her motions but went on playing instead.

"Chopin." The pianist proclaimed with a quiet voice. Myka nodded while staring at her fingers. "I kind of find him calming and relaxing." She explained. Over the music coming from the piano, Myka could hear Helena moving closer to the piano and positioning herself next to the right side of the American's chair. Slightly shaking her head, the therapist forced herself to concentrate on the notes instead of the attractive composer, who was now very close.

"Yes." Helena's voice was low and a little husky. "They also describe him as very sensitive and..." From the corner of her eye, the brunette saw the Brit leaning over the keys and watch her gracefully moving hands. "...sensual."

Myka turned her head to her and swallowed. Her right hand hit the wrong keys and the pianist smirked in reaction. The therapist took her hands from the keys and raised her eyebrows. "What?" She asked.

"Well, we know you're ambidextrous, but your right hand becomes a little sloppy at the higher notes, even though I'm quite impressed that you just played Chopin without a sheet of music." The Brit explained.

"Well, I have an eidetic memory..." Myka replied.

"I'm impressed."

"Sloppy?" The therapist asked indignantly.

"Well, yes, you kind of overran this part." The pianist placed her right hand on the keys and played a short combination of notes. She looked up. "See? That's the one you missed." Quickly, she replayed the part.

Myka gasped and stared at Helena's hand. The Brit looked up confused. "What is it?"

"Uhm... I'm kind of... I didn't know you were making such a good progress, Helena. This really impresses me." The American stuttered.

"Progress? I'm quite... Oh." The composer looked at her hand resting on the keys. "Well, this is interesting." She commented on it with a shrug and pulled her hand back. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths.

Myka watched her with interest. She hoped the pianist wasn't about to have a panic attack now. It wasn't any of Myka's intentions to confuse or to hurt her. Maybe she should change the topic.

Helena did this step for her. The composer turned her wheelchair and moved through the waiting room. "Why have you moved your furniture to the wall?" She asked with interest.

There was a huge blanket spread over the ground, with pillows on it.

Now Myka was getting nervous. She stood up from her chair and buried her hands in the pockets of her pants. Staring at her feet, she mumbled. "Well, I kinda hoped... I like doing this and my patients often like it, too and I wanted to... so... I mean."

Helena turned around. "And now in whole sentences, please, Myka. I might be considered a genius, but I currently have problems following you."

The therapist sighed. "Well, if I really want to enjoy music, I sometimes lay down on the ground and close my eyes and forget everything around me."

"And you hoped I would do that and listen to you?" The pianist asked with raised eyebrows.

"No, I hoped we could do it together. The CD player will do the playing part for us." Myka replied and smiled.

"Oh." Staring at the blanket, Helena moved her wheelchair into its direction. "I think I would enjoy that."

"Any music preferences?" The American walked over to the music player on the wall.

"Hm." The composer shrugged and shook her head slightly. "Maybe... Chopin. I mean he already joined us, so we could give him an invitation to stay?"

A few minutes later, they were both laying on the blanket, each of them with a pillow under their head. There was a slight distance between them but Helena's body so close to her own caused problems for Myka to actually concentrate on the currently playing music. She kept her eyes shut, but struggled with it.

"You're right." She said.

"Hm?"

"He's quite sensual." Myka stated without opening her eyes. She could feel the Brit shifting on her elbows next to her. "Right?" Her voice spoke. The therapist turned her head to open her eyes and meet Helena's brown orbs. They both held their gazes for a few seconds. It was the composer who broke the eye contact and looked away.

Myka chuckled. "So, I'm curious."

Helena's head turned back to face Myka and she smiled attentively.

"Has the great Helena G. Wells actually played the sensual Chopin to seduce someone?" The therapist asked bluntly." The pianists facial expression changed to a surprised one.

"Have you played it to seduce me?" She asked with a smirk. The American swallowed hard and looked away.

"You were the person who lead my attention to his sensuality, remember?" She blurted out.

"Oh right." The Brit replied. "Well..." She looked down to their feet. "Not since the accident."

Myka lifted herself slightly up and turned her body towards the pianist. "Helena, I'm sorry. I didn't want to make this about... I didn't want to hurt you."

"Myka, it's alright. I'm not hurt by your words. In fact, I have a pretty good therapist who teaches me to talk about this." Helena lifted herself so much that she could face the other woman, whose gaze rested on the pianist legs. At some point, they had to talk about this, Myka knew. But she didn't want to step too far into the composer's personal space.

"Limb paralysis." The pianist explained while her eyes softly rested on the therapist's furrowed brows. "My motoric nerves are damaged down my L1 vertebra."

Myka looked up. Their eyes met again and Myka swallowed.

"Just the motoric ones, not the sensoric ones. Frankly speaking, I can feel my legs but I'm unable to move them." The Brit chuckled. "Like the pianos in my flat. They are there, but I can't do anything with them."

"You're saying this so cynically." Myka bit her lip.

"Well, it is quite ironic, isn't it?" The pianist replied with a snide tilt of head. "I couldn't use my legs even if I wanted while I'm free to play the piano but something holds me back. Both are there, recognised and worthless. And all in all it makes me feel rather useless."

"You're anything but useless." The therapist said naturally. She reached out her hand and lightly placed it on Helena's thigh. "So you can actually feel this?" She asked interested. As Helena quietly gasped, Myka pulled her hand quickly back and leaned back on her pillow. She forcefully closed her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't want to step too far or hurt you or something."

She felt the pianist carefully picking up her hand and entwining their fingers. Slowly, Myka's hand was brought back to Helena's thigh and the other woman placed her hand over her's.

"You didn't hurt me, Myka. To be honest I gasped because I quite enjoyed your hand on my thigh." The composer smiled as she saw Myka opening her eyes again. Helena rested her head back on her pillow but shifted closer to the therapist's. Their eyes met again and Myka could feel her heart fluttering and those butterflies inside her stomach growing. Then there was the light touch of Helena's lips on her own. The American closed her eyes and slightly leaned into the kiss to return it. There were so many questions left. She felt afraid about falling in love with the broken pianist. She didn't know if she was recovering well. After all, Myka was still a therapist and she didn't know if she was actually good for the other woman. Tentatively she pulled back from the kiss and opened her eyes. "Helena..."

The composer looked horrified. "Oh." She spoke and sat up. "I'm sorry, Myka." With a quick move she reached next to herself and pulled her wheelchair closer to forcefully lift herself in.

"No, Helena." Myka whispered.

"I thought I've made my intentions about you quite clear. I didn't know you thought differently." The Brit shifted in her wheelchair and turned it towards the office door. Myka jumped up from the blanket. "Helena, I-"

"I'm ever so sorry to have stepped into your personal space like this-"

"Helena Whatever-the-G-stands-for Wells. Let me talk!" Myka yelled. The pianist stopped her motion to leave Myka's office. She didn't turn around to face the other woman but just stayed there, her hands resting on the wheels of her chair.

"I know that you're now trying to run away and maybe to hide from me because you're so used in doing this. You're just afraid because you've felt something and fear that somebody could actually reach you. So you interpret much more into my small reaction to you kissing me than necessary, Helena. I know how you feel, because I feel the same. It's not like I don't carry a lot around with me, too. In fact, I do. But I won't accept you behaving like I rejected you. Because I didn't." Myka sobbed, her head was red and she pressed her hands so hard into fists that her knuckles ran white. "This is new for me, Helena. Everything about you. You're a famous and brilliant pianist who struggles with so much in her life and I'm just afraid to do anything wrong that could keep you from your recovery. That's all. I'm not rejecting you. Honestly, I'm not."

She stared at the pianist's back and waited for an reaction from her. There had to be something. Helena didn't turn around. Instead, she slowly spun her wheels to move out of the office. "I hope you have an interesting day, Miss Bering." She said.


	4. To Unfragment

Helena sat behind her desk and stared at the box in front of her. She rubbed and clenched her hands, her jaw working hard. With a huff, she leaned back in her chair and groaned. Her death glare hadn't any effect on the box so she gave up and opened it. Gingerly, she pulled out the device and turned it between her fingers while examining it. It looked interesting. One day she would maybe take it apart to completely understand how it works. The pianist pursed her lips and put the device back. Without closing it, she placed the whole box in her lap to move over to the grande piano. With a quick motion, the composer turned on the small electric engine next to it and positoned herself in front of the keys. Carefully, she placed the box on top of the piano and pulled the device out, turned it on and put it in the mouth behind her cheek.

Rolling slightly back, she stared at the piano's right pedal moving in reaction to her biting down on the device.

Helena smiled. Well, she had to practice this a little before she could master it, but it was a beginning.

Softly, she cracked her fingers and placed them on the keys. She took a deep breath. Mr. Jinks kept telling the pianist she had to focus on things she loved about playing piano. Running her fingers over the keys without pressing them, Helena pondered over this. Well, there had been the opportunity to express her emotions with it. This was clearly visible in her compositions after her daughter's death. When Helena Wells mourned Christina, the world had celebrated her music, because there had suddenly been so many intense and emotional pieces. The pianist sighed. That wasn't a positive thought, Mr. Jinks wouldn't be very pleased by it.

Another aspect had been the admiration of other people, her parents and her piano teachers first, then referees at competitions and concerts, later her piano professors and in the end: the whole world that admired piano music.

Helena had never craved this admiration. All she wanted was to play for her own pleasure. The composer knew she was good. Maybe she had known a little too well how good she actually was in playing the piano. She chuckled. Well, arrogance was definitely not helping her back behind the keys. HG felt them under the skin of her fingertips and allowed her mind to wander to completely different aspect she loved about piano music. This one was new and the pianist was sure her stubborn mind had destroyed any possibility that it could grow. But Helena wanted to heal, to recover and this was why she allowed Myka Bering's face to appear in her mind.

The pianist's fingers almost moved by themselves as she played a few notes. She opened her eyes and stared at her fingers playing the music she heard.

Tears were filling her eyes as she smiled. But then her right hand touched the wrong key and she moved back, horrified. The pianist's palm hit the keys with a loud plunk.

"Maybe..." Leena's voice said from the door. The composer's personal assistant leaned in the frame, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "Maybe Bach isn't the right decision for a beginning with playing piano again. I mean it needs skill and practice to play Bach perfectly and it's really hard." She shrugged. "Even though those 20 seconds sounded beautiful."

Helena glared at her, narrowing her eyes.

"I also mean this piece is making me quite nervous. How about something relaxing instead?" Leena asked. The pianist pursed her lips and stared at the keys again. She took a deep breath and concentrated on the face that still filled her mind. She let the emotions connected to Myka's face flow and closed her eyes. What she loved about piano music... There was something that she linked with this woman. Helena's fingers started pressing the keys again. Leena smiled at the music coming from the piano. The pianist now played a little longer than the first time but as she hit the wrong keys she again slightly moved back and looked at her hands, mortified.

"Don't worry, Helena. It's like riding a bike. You don't unlearn how to play piano. You just need to practice again." The assistant nodded.

HG turned her wheelchair back from the piano and rolled over to her desk. With a quick move she took a tissue from the box on the table and put the device from her mouth in it.

"It frustrates me." She stated. Her hands played with the device wrapped in the tissue.

"What? That those were only 20 seconds of Bach and 30 seconds of Chopin?" Leena sighed. "HG, this is so much progress. You just played piano. Half a year ago we couldn't even think about you looking at one. And those were beautiful 50 seconds."

Suddenly Charles' office door opened. He marched through the hall and stared at Leena as he entered Helena's office "As I heard it, I finished my phone call as fast as possible. Did I just hear piano music? Sister, have you been playing? Is Helena Wells back?" He asked excitedly. Leena didn't even try to hide her big eyeroll.

The pianist cleared her throat. "No, Charles. This wasn't the great Helena Wells playing piano." She shook her head and moved to the window behind her desk. "It was just Helena. Just me." She spoke while staring at the first winter snow reaching the city.  
______________________________

"So...uhm... Why did you leave Miss Bering's office?" Mr. Jinks asked nervously and leaned back in his chair.

"Well, there was a misunderstanding about the nature of our relationship." Helena calmly answered the question. She lay on the couch in her office and stared at the ceiling.

"In which way?" Her therapist went into it.

"I would rather prefer to talk about the fact that I played 20 seconds of Bach and 30 seconds of Chopin this Saturday." The pianist replied and smiled softly.

"Yeah, that's a very great progress. We're doing great work together, Miss Wells. It almost feels like our therapy is working." Mr. Jinks spoke in a monotonous tone of voice. "And what was the misunderstanding about Miss Bering's and your relationship?"

"I'm a little frustrated that it were only 50 seconds of music, Mr. Jinks, but Leena keeps telling me..." She sat up. "Wait, Mr. Jinks why are we still talking about Miss Bering even though I said I wanted to talk about my music? Which is the main reason why we're working together, by the way. You're here to help me with my recovery and make me play piano again. Not to talk about my personal relationships."

"May... maybe your personal relationships are a part of you recover-" Mr. Jinks stuttered but was interrupted by Helena again.

"How do you even know about the incident with Miss Bering three weeks ago? I can't remember telling you about this." The pianist raised both her eyebrows.

"You sure told me after the..." The therapist began.

"No. No, I didn't Mr. Jinks. The only times I mentioned Miss Bering was after she furiously interrupted our first therapy session. I did that to explain to you that I see her as a love interest and can't work with her on a professional basis." Helena looked directly into Mr. Jink's eyes what caused him to shift nervously on his chair. "And when I mentioned I kept visiting her to bring her coffee. I did this to show you that I made progress in leaving my flat. But I know I didn't tell you about this incident. And I know that you're a good therapist so you wouldn't step into my private space trying to get information out of my employees."

"I...uhm..." The therapist scribbled nervously on his paper and broke the eye contact.

His patient sighed deeply. "Claudia and Leena probably already know that I will kill them. What did they do?"

"It could possibly be that Miss Donovan showed up in my office at the beginning of the week and forced me to listen to her." Mr. Jinks explained nervously.

"Oh, I know Claudia's interrogation techniques. What did she want from you?" The pianist asked with interest.

"She may have told me that I have to lead your attention to your relationship with Miss Bering."

"I won't even ask what she used to blackmail you, Mr. Jinks. I know Claudia can be quite persistent." Helena buried her face in her hands.

The therapist glared for a while anxiously at his patient, then he cleared his throat. "So, do you want to talk about Miss Bering?"

"There isn't quite much to talk about, Mr. Jinks. She sees me rather differently than I see her." The composer dropped herself back to the couch and crossed her arms. Vigoriously, she stared at the ceiling and huffed.

"And you know this why?" Mr. Jinks asked interested.

"Because I kissed her and she rejected me." The pianist answered his question with a sigh.

"Did she say that?"

"What?"

"Did she say that she's rejecting you?" The man went into it.

"No, instead she told me she was not rejecting me." The pianist shrugged.

"So what makes you believe she was rejecting you even though she clearly told you she wasn't?" Mr. Jinks raised both his eyebrows in confusion.

"Oh, come on. Mr. Jinks, we all know this nice and kind 'it's not you or your conditions, it's me and I can't deal with it' rejection." Helena snorted.

"So you think she was just playing nice by saying that she wasn't rejecting you?" Her doctor assumed with a tilt of his head.

"Yes."

"And what did she do so you knew that she was lying about this? I mean, I know a lot about lying. We could analyse this." The therapist smiled softly.

"She said I was a famous and brilliant pianist and she struggles dealing with my mental health." Helena explained slowly and with emphasis.

"That's what she said?" Her therapist sounded surprised. "It's hard for me to believe that, I mean, Miss Bering is a therapist. It doesn't sound like anything a therapist would say."

Helena groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Tell me, Miss Wells, please. I'm interested in this." Mr. Jinks said calmly.

"She said she's afraid to do anything to keep me from recovery." The composer spoke and allowed herself to think about this sentence.

"Did it ever come to your mind that Miss Bering doesn't see you differently than you see her, Miss Wells? But that in fact, she's just a little overwhelmed by your social rank and - far more interesting - she cares so much about you that she's afraid to hurt you? Or to do anything wrong that throws you back into your anxious behaviour? I think she sees the great progress you're making and she knows that she's just a human being and if she allows herself to fall in love with you she could behave like one towards you. Which could possibly not end very well for the both of you, in her opinion. Because she could frighten you away and you could maybe hurt her."

It was silent for a while in Helena Wells office. The pianist pondered over her therapist's words while studying the ceiling.

"Miss Wells? I know I'm usually the person who listens and am the one talking so I hope I didn't overstep a border here. Also I hope you have indeed listened and didn't fall asleep to my words." Mr. Jinks expressed his worries.

"Yes, Mr. Jinks. I have heard you and I think all the money I pay you for listening to me is well-invested." Helena said without looking at him.

"So... ehm... Miss Bering?" He asked shyly.

"I will think about this, Mr. Jinks. You can tell Claudia that you have successfully led me into allowing myself to consider talking to her." The Brits' tone of voice was slightly harsh.

"Oookay." The therapist sighed in relief. "So. Well, 20 seconds of Bach and 30 seconds of Chopin? I'm impressed, Miss Wells."  
______________________________________________

On Friday morning, Myka punctually arrived at her doctor's office and stepped through the snow to get the guitar out of her trunk. With a sigh, she allowed her view to wander over the street and the snow falling down in big flakes. The early December morning showed its beautiful side. There wasn't only the snow falling, the city had already installed all the little lights in anticipation of the celebration on the month's end. With a huff of steaming breath, Myka tightened her coat around her neck.

Helena had stopped visiting her after the incident and the therapist knew the composer wouldn't probably start it again. She honestly hoped the pianist hadn't wrapped herself again in her isolation cocoon. Myka would have been happy to see her or to know she was well but she was too hurt and too afraid to forcefully step into the composer's life again. Even though she knew Leena would like the thought of her running into Helena Wells' office, Myka had no energy to invest into this. She had expressed her feelings to Helena the day the pianist left her office and she couldn't allow herself to get more emotionally involved in this than she already was. Pete had said he could 'feel vibes' about her having love sickness and this clearly showed that Myka had allowed herself to be too deeply in Helena Wells' game of rejection and fondness.

Fondness, the therapist wouldn't admit she was yearning for.

Taking big steps, Myka crossed the sidewalk between her car and the door of her office and pulled out her keys to open it. Some city worker had already cleared the snow from the sidewalk and Myka was grateful for not having to wade through the cold material reaching to her ankles. She anxiously eyed the few newly fallen snow flakes on the ground and hoped the sidewalk would stay usable until the evening.

The office's door was usually a little bit stuck and needed a slight pull with both hands to open properly, so the therapist put her guitar down while she concentrated on this task.

"I am sorry." A familar voice said quietly behind her. Myka swallowed hard as she felt the tears form in her eyes. She stopped her motions, but didn't turn around. She couldn't bear looking at Helena.

"I am so utterly sorry, Myka." The pianist spoke again. "I know that you probably dislike the thought about seeing me again. I think this is a rather normal reaction to two rejections from me. But Myka, let me tell you that I realised my stubborness and I know that I have hurt you a lot. More than a lot." The Brit's voice trembled. Myka had to lean herself on her hands against the door to hold her balance. She took a deep breath to calm herself but she couldn't keep her tears from running.

"Myka, I'm such a fool for not seeing that you opened yourself up to me. That you spoke about your feelings for me. You care for me. You told me that you carry a burden too, so you know that my way of recovery will be a long one. I didn't quite see that you're afraid of interfering with my progress. Now I know you are." Helena slightly sobbed which caused Myka's heart to flutter.

"Mr. Jinks said you could possibly be part of my recovery and I know that you're afraid of this. No one suddenly recovers only because they fall in love with someone, you know that, and I know you're afraid that you can't handle it." At those words, Myka turned around and faced the other woman. Helena was in tears, but didn't avoid her gaze. She looked directly into the therapist's reddened eyes while she went on speaking. The cold wind hit Myka's burning cheeks and she gasped quietly in reaction.

"I don't want to put another burden on you by being part of my recovery process, Myka. But I want you to know that you are the _reason why I want to recover_. You are the reason I hired Mr. Jinks to help me. You are the reason why I want to feel better and why I want to leave my flat." The pianist took a deep breath. "Because I am in love with you, Myka. Utterly and madly in love."

Myka closed her eyes. The tears now freely ran down her cheek. She swallowed hard and allowed her eyes to open again to face the woman in front of her. Helena smiled shyly, her brows furrowed in worry. The American could see all the insecurities that weighed on the pianist's shoulders.

"You don't have to say anything." Helena spoke softly and with a slightly disappointed tone of voice that she completely failed to hide. "I just wanted you to know..."

Myka reached forwards. She crossed the sidewalk with just a few big steps to close the gap between her and the pianist. Helena's wheelchair swayed dangerously as the therapist bent over and leaned to the composer. Myka pressed her lips with such a force onto Helena's that the pianist's eyes widened in surprise. As she felt the therapist's hands cling onto her black winter coat and pull her closer, Helena's facial expression changed to a softer one. The pianist slowly closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around the therapist's neck. They stayed minutes like this, silently and without any words, just letting their lips and tongues meet and feel each other.


	5. Glueing

Myka watched the black limousine slowly approach. She couldn't help but smile as it stopped in front of her. The therapist wore a long black coat, because it was cold. But under it, a purple dress covered her body.

The limousine's driver jumped out and tipped his hat to greet her. Myka entered the car through the held open door. "So, where are we going?" She asked while struggling to find her position. As she looked up to face Helena, her heart stopped for a second, because it wasn't the beautiful dark haired Brit who smiled back at her. "You're not Helena." Myka blurted out in confusion.

"Nope, Miss Bering. I'm sorry." The redhead in the car seat replied with a shrug.

"You're Claudia Donovan, the lead guitarist of 'The Artifacts' and the mysterious whispering voice at the phone." The therapist stated as she tried to figure out what was going on. In reaction, the girl raised her fedora.

"You forgot the most important thing." Claudia chuckled as the car started moving.

"Which is?"

"I'm H.G.'s best friend." The girl said in a-matter-of-fact voice.

"Ah, so this is the reason why you are picking me up with Helena's limousine to our date instead of her?" The older woman raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, kind of. H.G. is currently a little... uhm.. busy. And that's why she told me keep your company while driving to the restaurant." The guitarist explained and shrugged.

"Busy?" Now Myka was intrigued.

The girl nodded excitedly. "Yes."

"And I guess you don't want to tell me." The therapist assumed.

"Well, it's a thing. We talked a lot about this and I think you know that H.G. is a little... eccentric?" Claudia pursed her lips and slightly tilted her head.

"I'm getting more and more curious and confused." Myka replied.

"Yeah, you'll see. So." The girl shifted in her seat to completely face the older woman. "Musical therapist. That sounds interesting. And you know my band. Do you like my music?"

"Is it involved in my date with Helena?" The therapist bit her lip.

"No."

"Well, then I feel free to say that punk rock is not my cup of tea."

"Oh. But classical piano music is?" Claudia went into the topic.

Myka smiled brightly. Her eyes glistened. "Yes."

"And certain attractive female British pianists are too?" The girl asked with a smirk but Myka could see another question hidden in her eyes.

"Just this one." She replied easily. "Miss Donovan-"

"Claudia."

Myka nodded. "Claudia, I really care for Helena. Not because she's a famous pianist or because she's a therapy patient and I'm an interested therapist. I'm really happy I've met her and that our relationship didn't only stay on a -how did Helena put it?- 'Professional basis'."

"But on what kind of basis?" The guitarist asked with emphasis.

"Oh, are you trying to get me to label it, Claudia? I think that's far too early considering you are keeping my company on the way to our first date. Or well, technically it's our second one, if you want to call the incident in my office a date. I planned it as one but it didn't end up like I planned it." While explaining, Myka lowered her gaze a little.

"And how you plan this date to end?" Claudia asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"Well, it would help a lot if I knew what we're about to do, but I hope it involves talking to Helena, get to know each other better and maybe end in a soft but passionate kiss in the car in front of one of our doors." The therapist sighed. This kid clearly showed very good interrogation techniques. Myka felt like she was in high school listening to her teacher whom she had somehow offended.

Claudia nodded as the car parked. "Good."

They entered a building that turned out to be a really good restaurant, but they seemed to be the only guests. Myka gave the receptionists her coat and Claudia whistled looking at her. "Soft but passionate kiss, huh? I don't even know where to put my eyes. What do you think H.G. is going to do about that dress?"

"Do you think I'm overdressed? I didn't know what to wear and since I'm dating Helena Wells, I thought-"

"No, not overdressed. But smoking hot, Miss Bering."

"Myka."

"Myka. So H.G. seems to have this table rented for you." Claudia explained as she pointed towards it.

"Just the table? Judging from the restaurant being completely empty and how the receptionists and waiters are looking at me I would assume she's rented whole restaurant." The therapist guessed.

"Yeah, that sounds like her."

"So where is she?" Myka asked while sitting down at the table the receptionist had led them to. Claudia flung herself in the chair on the opposite side of the table. She pulled another chair from a different table closer to put her feet on it, leaned forwards and took a piece of bread from the basket between the dishes.

"Probably in the kitchen." The redhead answered, her voice muffled from the big piece of bread that had just entered her mouth. "What?" She asked as Myka raised both her eyebrows.

"Oh, nothing, Claudia. I just thought about how easily you and my friend Pete would get along with each other." Myka warily eyed the guitarist's feet on the second chair.

"Bloody hell, Claudia! Just because I've rented the restaurant you're not supposed to behave like the immodest rock star you are." An indignant voice said behind the therapist. Myka's heart fluttered at those words. She smiled and turned around in her chair to face the beautiful Brit.

Helena looked stunning. She wore a simple white blouse and a black vest with matching black pants. Gracefully, she sat in her wheelchair, glaring at the younger musician with fire in her eyes.

"Geez, HG, chill. Nobody is going to see me." The redhead replied with a shrug and made no attempt to stand up.

The pianist shot a quick glimpse at Myka. "Excuse me for a second darling, I have to clean up the mess before I can give my full attention to you." She spun the wheels of her chair quickly to close the gap to Claudia in one big motion. While rolling, she raised her arms. "Shush you, silly girl. I'm grateful for you keeping Myka's company, but this is not a public party, this is a private date between her and me." Claudia looked a little anxiously at her and jolted up from her chair. "Leena is in the kitchen. Join her or do anything useful. But for god's sake, leave! Quickly! Now! Take the chairs with you if you want."

As Claudia -and the two chairs she was carrying with her- disappeared in the door to the back rooms of the restaurant, Helena turned to Myka who had stood up. The pianist stopped her motion as she became aware of the other woman's features.

The therapist tilted her head. "Are you alright, Miss Wells? You tend to stare when surprised."

Helena smirked as she recognised her own words. "I'm not surprised, darling. I'm just... well, I'm enjoying the view." She cleared her throat. "You look ravishing, Myka."

The American blushed and lowered her gaze as she stepped closer. "So do you."

Myka bent over to greet the pianist with a quick kiss but Helena instantly wrapped her arms around her neck to pull her closer. A welcomed heat built up in Myka's stomach, her knees weakened and she had to force herself to pull away from the other woman.

"Dinner." She mumbled and blinked in confusion.

"Oh. Right." They let each other go and positioned themselves at the table.

"So." Myka said as and awkwardly eyed the waiter who brought them wine. "You rent a whole restaurant for a date with me."

"Yes, I did." HG smirked and placed a napkin in her lap. "I think Claudia already informed you about my eccentric character."

"Well, I kinda figured that out myself." The therapist replied and remembered the interviews she watched.

"It's a little thing between her and me. I would enjoy showing myself with you in public, but Claudia also said you might like a more private setting. We had a discussion once about the setting a date with you. I was rather conflicted about inviting you to a fancy restaurant and the girl told me to cook for you." Helena snorted. "She said my chicken madras was 'rad'."

"So when you were back in the kitchen..." Myka raised an perfectly-arched eyebrow.

"I cooked." The composer finished her sentence.

"You've rented a whole restaurant to cook for me." The American concluded with astonishment.

"Call me eccentric, darling." The pianist replied with a smirk, but Myka could see the insecurity in her eyes.

"That's something so uniquely you, Helena." She spoke. "I... wow."

"It displeases you?" The Brit asked, her voice mirroring her emotion.

"No! On the contrary. I really like it." The therapist looked directly into her eyes. "It's perfect."

Quietly, Helena sighed in relief.

"So, what did you cook?" Myka asked with interest.

"Not chicken madras." HG replied with a smug smile.

"But?"

"French. I like the French cuisine. I hope you fancy it, too." The pianist said hopefully.

Myka leaned back in her chair and smiled at her. "Yes, I do."

They shared the food with a light conversation. Helena really was a great cook and Myka loved every course of the menu. But far more she enjoyed the pianist's company. They cast shy smiles at each other over their dishes. And every now and then their hands touched on the table.

As the dessert was served, Helena fixed her gaze on it. She shifted nervously and Myka could tell that she wanted to talk about something that occupied her mind for a while now.

"Myka, I don't want to destroy this wonderful moment..." The Brit began and the therapist knew.

She leaned forward and reached over the table to caress the pianist's cheek. Helena leaned into the touch.

"It's okay Helena, you can ask. I know it interests you because it's a big topic in your life. We can talk about this." For a second, Myka listened to her own heart. She was ready to open herself to someone and this someone was Helena. She was sure.

The composer sighed and avoided her gaze. "Have you lost someone?"

The therapist put down her spoon and leaned back in her chair. She folded her hands and looked directly at Helena, waiting for their eyes to meet.

"Yes." She calmly answered the other woman's question. "I have."

The composer again lowered her gaze. "And... are you okay... can you?"

"I needed therapy too to process this, Helena. There are some things we can't handle alone." She sighed as she prepared herself to tell her story.

"I didn't hide myself in my apartment. Instead I buried myself in work. I tried forcefully to get my everyday life running so I didn't have to feel anything. But the truth was that I felt a lot. I felt so much that I was almost numbed by it and I didn't allow myself to realise this. Isn't it funny that even therapists lose the ability to properly care for themselves if something tears a hole into their hearts?" She cleared her throat and reached over the table to carefully cover the Brit's hands with her own.

"It's just normal, Helena. Everything I felt and everything you feel is a normal reaction to the things we have been through." She didn't avoid Helena's eyes so she could see the question in it. Myka smiled softly.

"I was engaged." She spoke.

"Oh." The pianist looked surprised.

"His name was Sam. We've met in college and fell quickly and madly in love. It doesn't happen very often that you stay a couple with the person you meet in college." Myka slightly chuckled. "I became a therapist and he went to the police. Six years ago he asked me to marry him. And five years ago he died in a shooting during a raid on a drug lab." Myka stopped and listened to her own feelings about this. Yes, she could speak freely now. She was a little surprised this has come out so easily.

"I didn't accept this. I didn't allow myself to feel anything about this. I just worked. My friend Pete tried to help me through it, but I didn't let him close. And then..." She sighed. "One day I fell asleep during a therapy session with a patient. I hadn't slept well in months. I couldn't bear the empty space in bed. Instead I spent my nights working through files and trying to master my piano and guitar skills, falling asleep at my desk. This was the point when I realised I had to ask the world for a break. A time for myself to recover. And for help." Helena's hands quivered under her own. Myka swallowed and watched them as she carefully entwined their fingers.

"The blunt truth is, Helena, that we can't fill the holes in our hearts. They will always be there no matter how hard we try to get rid of them. But we can allow people to help us living with them. We can let new people into our lives, who would take care for us and who love us _and_ the holes in our hearts."

Helena's and Myka's eyes met. A single tear ran down the pianist's cheek. The therapist smiled softly and reached over the table to wipe it away with her thumb. Then, she let their hands go to stand up. Quickly, she moved her chair to the other side of the table, next to Helena. She sat down and pulled the composer into a strong hug. Myka could feel the other woman shudder in her arms, so she reached down to cup her chin and tilt her head so far that she could look into her eyes. They were reddened, but filled with warmth and relief. Myka leaned over and kissed the pianist softly.

With a sigh, Helena embraced her arms around her, her fingertips slowly running over the fabric on the therapist's back.

They stayed minutes kissing like this. Myka could feel Helena's tension slowly disappear. Claudia's voice caused them to pull apart.

"Hey, you two lovebirds. Hands where I can see them, please." She stated and the two kissing women jolted apart. Claudia grinned. "Works every time." She shuddered under H.G.'s death glare. "Dude, no reason to kill me. I would also be happy if you didn't kill the messenger."

"What messenger?" Helena was confused.

"Well, there's a problem with the second part of the date." The redhead nervously looked down to her feet.

Myka raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Second part?"

"Well, yes." The guitarist nodded excitedly. "It was my idea. Artie and I and some other people sometimes jam a little jazz in a cool bar just around the corner and I kinda thought it was a good idea if you two joined us. I hope jazz is your bag of tea, Myka."

"Yes, indeed, I like jazz." The therapist replied.

"But, yeah, well. Artie's ill in bed. I almost punched him through the phone when he called to cancel this. But uhm, yeah he's ill and apparently we're now missing a pianist for our jazz jam."

Myka and Helena shared a look. The therapist shrugged and looked at the girl. "That's no problem." She said. "I can play."

"Pardon me? Darling, I thought we would go there to enjoy the music." Helena was surprised.

"Yeah, Helena, I kinda enjoy music when I play it myself, too." Myka replied with a smile. "And seriously, what kind of jam is it without a pianist? I remember that big parts of jam sessions are about improvising." The therapist shrugged. "So let's improvise."  
_______________________________________

At some point, Claudia had placed her fedora on Helena's head. The Brit was convinced it looked ridiculous, but she didn't mind because Leena and the redhead tried their best to assure her it was 'part of the jam.' The ensemble's drummer had a very bad timing that almost caused a headache. As always, Claudia had a huge thing for guitar solos, which wasn't less annoying. The bar was gloomy, full of cigarette smoke and the scent of stale beer. But Helena didn't care. She didn't mind at all that the trombonist had a problem with the higher notes or that the contrabass player spun his instrument ridiculously often. All Helena saw as she sat next to a cheering and swaying Leena - who whistled and yelled to encourage Claudia's next guitar solo- all the pianist cared for was the woman behind the piano.

Myka's green eyes almost glowed in excitement as she played her notes. She smiled and bit her lip while nodding her head to the music. The therapist had no problems to adjust her music to the others, she played with soul and passion. Helena could feel and see it. Every now and then, Myka looked up from her keys and shot smiling glimpses at the Brit. And each time their eyes met, Helena could feel butterflies in her stomach and heat running through her body. She watched the brunette's hands gracefully dance over the keys, her whole body swaying in excitement. Helena felt home.

And as Claudia almost knocked over the microphone they kept on the stage to talk to the audience and yelled "Our special guest on the piano, Myka Bering, dudes and dudettes." and Myka played a brief solo to a clapping audience, Helena cheered and applauded as well. And she meant it.


	6. To Await

A pleasant warmth emanated from the fireplace in Helena Wells' apartment. Myka almost forgot how cold it was outside. It was a day after Christmas. The therapist had spent the holidays with her parents and her sister. She had told them she was dating the famous pianist and that - for the first time in the last five years - she had found somebody she felt close to. Her parents didn't mind that their daughter's new love interest was a woman. Instead, Jeannie Bering had gleefully jumped up from her chair to hug her daughter. Warren Bering had just been relieved Myka had finally let somebody in her life after Sam. And even the therapist's sister was excited. "Helena Wells?" She'd flooded Myka with questions. "The Helena Wells? Composer and pianist? 'A Travel Through Time' Helena Wells?" Tracy showed her knowledge of the pianist's works. "Why didn't you bring her?" Myka had explained that it was far too early in their relationship to bring Helena to the Bering's christmas celebration. Of course this was true. But Myka had also struggled with inviting Helena because she didn't know how the woman felt about meeting new people, especially the therapist's loud and busy family.

But the American didn't want to burden her mind with these thoughts. Instead she just enjoyed the warmth of the fire coming from the fireplace and from Helena's body. Myka currently snuggled against the pianist's chest. They both lay on the couch in front of the living room's fireplace. The composer had wrapped her arms around the therapist and held a book in her hands. Helena read silently and Myka just enjoyed her company and the sound of her heartbeat. The comfort and the silence of the situation made her sleepy but she didn't mind at all falling asleep in the Brit's warm arms.

It was Leena who broke this silence. With a busy huff she entered the living room and flung herself in the armchair next to the couple. Myka raised herself a little from Helena's chest. The pianist eyed this motion with a disappointed face and and then glared at her personal assistant.

"I'm sure I shouldn't go." Leena stated while nodding. "I can tell them I'm occupied."

Helena rolled her eyes. "Leena, you've been here with me and Charles the whole holidays. And I already told you it was unnecessary. You can now take your day off. I'm not going to fall apart when you're gone."

Her assistent raised an eyebrow in exasperation. "I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about this apartment, H.G."

"What are you talking about?" Myka asked confused. The Brit shook her head.

"Nothing." She mumbled.

"You call this nothing?" Leena was indignant. "Myka, this person might be considered a genius and her hands have clearly the skill to play piano pieces and make them sound beautiful. But when it comes to normal housework, she has two left hands."

"That's not true." The pianist replied with a pressing tone of voice.

"So last year I didn't come back from grocery shopping to a kitchen completely covered in goo because you suddenly thought it was a good idea to make banana milkshake?" Leena's voice droned on. "You never drink banana milkshake. I don't think you even like bananas."

"I had a new blender and I wanted to test it." Helena snorted.

"And bananas are a good source of potassium." Myka smiled.

"I'm sure you two will be the death of me. Why did I set you up with each other?" Leena raised her hands towards the ceiling.

Helena and Myka shared a look.

"Madness." HG smugly said.

"Lunacy." The therapist agreed.

"I guess you didn't have anything better to do."

"Claudia has probably talked you into it."

"That was one of her better ideas." Helena nodded.

Leena rolled her eyes and stood up. "I'm leaving."

"Good!" The couple spoke in unison.

Leena stomped through the living room. "I'm just glad that you're here, Myka, so she can't mess anything up."

"Maybe we can mess up things together." The pianist replied and chuckled.

"That's an innuendo I don't want to know anything about." Her assistant shook her head.

Myka and Helena burst into a loud laughter. Without looking at them, Leena smiled to herself. At the door, she turned around to say them goodbye. Instead, she didn't say a word. They currently shared a soft kiss. The pianist and the therapist were clearly occupied with each other and had already forgotten everything around them. Leena's smile brightened before she closed the door behind her.

The kiss between the two women grew more passionate and Myka didn't even think about pulling back from the composer. She gasped as Helena lifted herself up to cover the American's neck with mouth open kisses and gently sucked at her pulse point. "Helena!"

"What is it? Shall I play Chopin?" The pianist smirked.

"You don't need to play Chopin to seduce me." Myka smiled brightly and leaned down again to kiss the beautiful Brit.

Her hands wandered over the fabric of Helena's blouse towards the other woman's neck as her fingertips came in contact with a body warm piece of metal. The therapist frowned and looked down. There was a locket at a necklace around the composer's neck. Carefully, Myka took it into her hand and examined it.

"Charles might be rather impatient and very often he behaves like a complete arse. But there are days where he's just my little brother." Helena explained.

"He gave you a locket for christmas?" Myka asked and looked into her eyes.

"Open it." The pianist suggested.

With nimble fingers the therapist carefully opened the locket. There was a picture of a young dark haired girl in it. She was holding a violin in her arm bow as she smiled brightly into the camera. Myka recognised her face from the newspaper's title page. She had seen it three years ago, when the accident happened. It was a different picture, but the face was the same.

"She loved her violin." Helena's mouth quivered. "She started playing on it when she was five. Do you know how awful a violin can sound in unskilled hands?" The Brit snorted.

"Oh, I can just imagine." The therapist chuckled. She furrowed her eyebrows and looked down to the picture in her hand. She had no idea how much they should go into this conversation. Helena's whole body already tensed up under her and Myka didn't want to hurt her. But after all, she was interested in the past of the person she was in love with.

The pianist had carefully watched her face and reached out a hand to caress her cheek.

"She was perfect, Myka. The best that could ever happen to my life. We both know how I behaved before the accident. But not towards her. For Christina I wanted to be a better person. And I could manage it. She was everything in my life." Helena's hand cautiously played with the other woman's curls. "But then..." She sighed.

Myka cleared her throat. "Helena, you don't have to talk abou-"

"No. I want to." The pianist insisted. "I want to talk about this with you. Because I know you care for me and because I love you."

Myka immediately teared up. She pressed her lips together and forcefully closed her eyes to keep the tears from running. Then, she bent forward to press her lips to Helena's forehead. The pianist leaned into the touch and whimpered.

"Christina was seven when the accident happened. I just had picked her up from school. The driver of the blue Sedan which crashed into us was drunk." Helena growled from a point deep in her chest. Myka swallowed hard and anxiously watched the composer's facial expression. "He is in jail now, but I'm sure, if I could find him, I would rip him apart with my bare hands." Her lower lip quivered and the therapist quickly pressed a soft kiss on it.

"I'm a careful driver, Myka. I was so careful. But I couldn't do anything about it. I can still see how the car crashed into the passenger side where Christina sat." The pianist's hands clinged into the fabric of Myka's jumper.

"The whole car overturned and I lost my consciousness. As I woke up in hospital Charles was a crying mess. He stuttered and mumbled and hesitated. I believe he tried to avoid the topic. It was in fact Claudia who told me about Christina's death. I've never witnessed someone as strong as this woman, Myka. She spent so much time with me in the hospital. Even when I got mad and unmanageable, and threw things at her. Even when I yelled at her and cried and said things I'm not proud of." Now Helena sighed deeply. Her eyes were glued to the ceiling. "I was tied to the bed. They didn't let me leave for her funeral and I didn't understand. I was clearly injured, but I wanted to go. I only understood what was going on when the doctor asked me to wiggle my toes." She cleared her throat. "I just accepted it. Easily. I thought that being paralysed and not being able to play piano anymore was my punishment for being unable to take care of my little girl."

"Helena, it wasn't your fault." Myka softly spoke. The Brit looked at her and smiled sadly.

"I know. Now. But back then I was sure it was my fault. I didn't touch a piano properly since then. I don't think you know this. The compositions which were published after Christina's death were something I did while being tied to my bed. They were a way to express my feelings. But I just wrote them with my mind and not by touching an instrument."

She groaned. "I hate that Charles published them. That's something I can't really forgive him even though he's my little brother and I love him. Those were mine and Christina's pieces and I didn't want anybody to hear them.

Well, I had surgery to take the pressure from my spinal chord. This and the physiotherapy helped a little to increase my sensoric nerves. But my motoric nerves are completely damaged.

Physiotherapy was hell. All those doctors and therapists told me to do things I didn't have the energy for. But somehow they pulled me through this. Well and then I met Leena. Claudia made sure Charles hired a proper personal assistant. And since then, Leena is kicking my arse. Look at her, she has even managed to get me out of this flat. In the years I've spent hiding in this flat, she tried to get me back behind the piano. But not like Charles. She was quite more helpful and really interested in helping me. Well, without any success back then, I mean I plunked sometimes a little until I completely stopped playing." As she ended her speech, Helena soflty snuggled into Myka's neck.

"Leena is an angel." She spoke and the therapist nodded. They both held each other, feeling the warmth and the energy of their bodies. After all those words, they enjoyed having each other and the silence they could comfortably share.  
______________________________________

Helena sat in front of the living room's piano when Myka walked into the room, carrying a tray with hot beverages. The therapist put it down on the coffee table and watched the pianist.

"She liked Mendelssohn." Helena said as she placed her right hand on the keys. "Maybe because of the intonation in this one. It is played softly yet loudly at the same time."

There was a brief sequence of higher notes, but then she paused. The pianist bit her lip, her eyebrows in a knit. Myka had recognised the melody and pulled a chair to the composer's left side. Helena moved her wheelchair slightly aside so they could both take place in front of the keys.

"Well, if you won't judge my sloppy right handwork on the higher notes, I might play it for you." The American said and quickly leaned over to peck a kiss on the other woman's cheek. Helena grinned in return. "Promised."

Myka took a deep breath and tried to remember the notes. As she finally found them in her head, she placed her hands on the keys. But then she hesitated.

"Helena?" She said cautiously. The Brit hold her breath. "Yes, darling?" She asked in a playfully innocent tone of voice.

"This is not where your hands belong while I'm trying to concentrate on playing."

"Oh." The composer replied. "What a pity. Maybe here?"

Myka gasped. "God! No, not there either. Helena! I'm trying to focus here. I'm enjoying your every touch but can you please delay this behaviour?"

The other woman smirked and pulled her left hand back. She folded it together with her right one in her own lap and looked attentively at Myka. "I just wanted to encourage you. But if this isn't helping, I'll rather behave for a few minutes."

With raised eyebrows, the therapist looked back at the keys and nodded. Then she started playing. She tried to handle the intonation of this piece properly despite her fingers trembling a little. But the pianist didn't show if she recognised this.

Helena listened for a while and silently watched Myka's fingers dance over the keys. But as the therapist slightly raised her right hand to reach the keys in the middle to the right side of the piano, Helena put her own right hand under it. There was a short unclear moment in which Myka's left hand struggled with the deeper notes as she tried to adjust herself. She didn't play the higher notes anymore. It was Helena's right hand and Myka's softly rested on it and moved with it. It was a little overwhelming but the American did her best to concentrate on her left hand playing, her feet operating the piano's pedals and the soft touch of the pianist's skin under her right hand. The therapist was on fire, she felt overly sensitive to the composer's touch and sighed quietly.

But Helena played! Myka almost couldn't believe it. Even though they both struggled to adjust their timing, it was actually the pianist's right hand which playfully wandered over the keys. The American almost forgot her work on the pedals as she turned her head to watch the other woman's face. Helena's lower lip was caught between her teeth. She stared with furrowed eyebrows at the keys and her eyes showed the same fire they had that evening in the restaurant. Myka was sure she just witnessed a part of the old Helena Wells, famous pianist and composer of 'A Travel Through Time'. The therapist was impressed by the work of Helena's left hand. She stared for minutes at it. Her gaze slowly wandered up the composer's arm, took a short moment to rest at her chest and then enjoyed the view of Helena's graceful neck.

"I would rather prefer you concentrated on your left hand, Myka. You overran that part again." The Brit smirked.

"I'm sorry." Myka replied somewhat absent-mindedly. "I will do my best."

"You don't have to." Helena's left hand reached over to replace Myka's.

The pianist now played completely by herself. All Myka had to do was to take care of the piano's pedals. She had a little trouble with it, but it was clear that both women didn't care.

Helena's shoulder soflty leaned against Myka's while the Brit concentrated on the notes. The therapist carefully shifted to lean her head against it. The pianist sighed on the touch but played on. Her fingers trembled a bit as the other woman reached out her right hand do carefully caress her back. Helena cleared her throat.

"I'm just trying to encourage you." Myka smugly stated. The composer grinned but stayed silent, unwilling to interrupt the American's motion.

Softly and still slightly concentrating on her work on the pedal, Myka stroke the composer's back. She listened to the music coming from the piano and realised that this was Helena. Helena Wells played piano, all by her own. Myka couldn't believe it. She felt like something inside her loosened its grip.

Her fingertips found her way to the edge of the other woman's shirt. Myka's breath quickened as she made skin contact. The pianist's right hands slipped a little over the keys. With a shy smile, Helena turned her head and looked into the therapist's green eyes. Softly, the Brit leaned into Myka's touch until their lips met. With a quick motion, the pianist ended the play, wrapping her arms around the American. Their upper bodies moved against each other, lips linked into a heated and passionate kiss. As they pulled apart, Myka rested her forehead against the pianist's.

"I love you too, Helena." She quietly breathed.

The other woman showed her a warm smile, her eyes closed. "I think I like Mendelssohn as well. But not only because of the intonation." She replied.


	7. Finishing Touch

In the lift, Myka firmly eyed her best friend. "Pete, this is very important to me." She declared with a serious tone of voice. "So I hope you'll show your best side." Pete had already commented on the lobby and the lift with an overacted whistle.

He snorted. "My best side? Oh come on, Mykes! I'm always showing my best side, you know that."

She sighed in reaction. "I'm afraid so."

"I promise I will bear myself well. Even though I think I'm a big charmer. And I shouldn't even be forced into upper class social behaviour. I suggested to visit the New Year's Eve bar parties downtown. They really rock. But you wanted us to be with your posh British pianist of a girlfriend and her fancy companions." He rolled his eyes.

Myka thought about Claudia and Leena and decided to let him make his own experience about their 'fancyness'.

"You'll try to behave." She simply stated.

"Yes."

"No racing car noises." She strictly raised her eyebrows.

"What are you thinking about me?" The grabbed his chest in fake hurt. The therapist glared at him.

"I'm not going to make racing car noises." He said obediently. As their eyes met he sighed. "And no noises of a truck backing up either."

"Good."

The lift doors opened and Claudia jumped into their view. "MYKES!" She yelled pointing both index fingers at her. "The groove behind the piano! The wing in the word swing. Okay I should stop with the really bad word plays."

"Oh no, not a second one starting with this silly nickname." Myka rolled her eyes and hugged the girl tightly. "This is my friend Pete. Pete, this is Claudia, Helena's 'fancy' musician friend." She explained with a smug smile as they shook hands. "You two show the same disregard for furniture and lack of eating manners. Just in case you want to make conversation tonight." The three of them entered the living room. Myka's heart jumped as she saw Helena together with her old piano teacher Arthur Nielsen behind the piano.

"They are playing Händel." Claudia explained. "I suggested that we have some cooler music and then they started with this. Artie said if classical piano music was popular music genres, Händel would be Symphonic Metal!" She shrugged. "I can actually hear this."

Myka nodded. "This totally rocks." And even Pete looked slightly impressed.

Helena smiled brightly as she played. She threw her head back and Myka could see that she felt pleasure. Artie grinned while he leaned over to tell her something. Not stopping the piano music, Helena slightly turned in her wheelchair to look at Myka. She showed the therapist a proud and warm smile. Flabbergasted, the American raised her thumb towards her.

There were also other people in the room. Leena currently carried a tray with different nibbles to the coffee table. Charles sat on the couch and talked to an older lady with glasses and an impressive purse.

"That's Mrs. Frederic." Claudia whispered to Myka. "She's somehow a big thing in piano music industry or something. I have no idea. I already met her on Thanksgiving and she's giving me the creeps."

When she had ended her play, Helena moved towards the group around the therapist.

"Myka!" She exclaimed. The two of them shared a quick but passionate kiss which caused Pete to whistle, while Claudia looked everywhere else but at them. Artie joined the group and slightly shrugged.

"Helena, this is my friend Peter Lattimer."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Wells." Pete took the pianist's hand and did a curtsey.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Lattimer... I guess." Helena replied and raised her eyebrows. She looked questionably at Myka, who mouthed 'He is okay' at her. Claudia did her best not to burst out in laughter. The girl's face was already blushing red.

"Please, Miss Wells, call me Pete. I'm no great pianist or something, I'm just Pete." Pete explained while letting go of Helena's hand.

"Well, when I don't feel like being called 'The Great Helena Wells, pianist and composer', my friends are allowed to call me HG." The composer smirked.

"HG it is then." Pete grinned.

Myka and Claudia shared a amused look concerning this little stare competition, while Artie introduced himself to Pete. "Artie Nielsen. Piano teacher. Man who is responsible for this." He pointed at HG.

The evening was exuberant. Pete and Claudia bonded together very quickly, Myka noted with surprise. At ten o'clock, they already performed a robot dance to the redhead's music mix. After Leena had given herself a little liquid courage, she joined them. The guitarist immediately pulled her closer and spun her round to 'The Safety Dance'.

Myka had only eyes for Helena. The pianist smiled brightly during her conversations with Charles or Mrs. Frederic. But she didn't miss the therapist's view resting on her. Their eyes met. The American could feel the heat building up in her as she faced those dark brown orbs. Helena smirked as Myka quickly lowered her gaze.

"So what do you do for a living, just Pete?" Helena asked at almost 11 pm when Pete poured them a plain coke. They both had met at the bar, but didn't drink this evening for different reasons.

"Ah, I'm a policeman." He replied and closed the bottle. "I was Sam's partner on duty."

"Oh, so you were there when he passed away?" The pianist took the glass he handed her.

"Yes. And I was also there for Myka after he died." Pete tilted his head a little. "It wasn't an easy time."

"I can imagine."

They both watched the curly haired woman dancing with Claudia and Leena back in the living room.

"She's a very extraordinary woman, Peter." Helena said thoughtfully.

"Yes, she is. It's nice to know that you appreciate this." Pete smiled shyly.

"I do more than appreciate her." The pianist said simply. The police man nodded, held out his drink and they touched their glasses.

Artie joined them. His voice suggested that he was already a little tipsy.

"You look like you do a lot of sports, Pete." He leaned a little closer to the other man.

"Yes Artie, I do actually. But that's no reason for coming so close. I like my personal space and all."

"What kind of sports?" Helena asked.

"Oh the usual, football, softball, shooting hoops. Probably not your sport, HG, right?" Pete chuckled and then his eyes widened anxiously as he became aware of what he just had said.

"In fact I rather prefer different kinds of sports, Peter. That's true. Team sports aren't really my cup of tea. I was more skilled in tennis." HG smirked at him.

"Good." Pete replied. "Tennis is a good single sport. I tried that some time ago, too."

"I suppose I looked better than you in tennis shorts." The pianist smugly declared.

"Oh, I don't know. I look rad in shorts." He immediatly shifted himself into a superman pose.

"You haven't seen me in them yet."

"I'm feeling a competition here."

Myka approached the three of them. "Is everything alright?"

"I think Mr. Lattimer here is trying to challenge me." Helena explained and eyed the man playfully.

"It's out of question who would win." Artie slurred.

"What are you implying, HG?" Pete asked and glared at the woman.

"I have another wheelchair in the basement, Peter. How about a race around the block?" Helena suggested.

"Aw, HG, this man is very fit. I can see that." Artie gently patted the policeman's shoulder.

"Yeah, Artie, you're a good judge of people. But are you also a good judge of wheelchairs?" Helena smirked. "I have an excellent technique."

Myka took a deep breath. "No one is doing a wheelchair race around the block." She proclaimed.

"But darling-"

"No. One." She glared at the pianist and then moved on to face Pete. But the shine in her eyes betrayed the strictness of her voice.

It was almost twelve o'clock as Myka joined HG's and Mrs. Frederic's conversation.

"It was a good thing to see you back behind the keys, child." The older woman just explained.

"Well, I'm quite far away from actual good playing and being back to my old state of creativity and skill, but it feels good." Helena replied and immediately took the hand of the woman who just had approached them. Myka smiled on the gesture. The warmth of the pianist's hand floated up her arm and directly into other body parts she didn't need for conversation. The therapist swallowed.

"And I had skilled hands who helped me." The Brit softly said but Myka could hear that undertone in her voice. It made her shiver.

"This, Mrs. Frederic, is Myka Bering. Musical therapist and..." The pianist looked at the American. "...my girlfriend."

Quickly, Myka turned her head to face Helena. This was more than an introduction. She knew. The therapist smiled. Her heart fluttered. She felt safe and home.

At midnight, the guests gathered up on the balcony of Helena's apartment to count down. Champagne was opened, people cheered, yelled and hugged each other. The town's firework was impressive. Pete and Claudia fired some rockets, while laughing and talking a lot.

While watching the fireworks, Myka pulled herself a chair closer to sit down next to Helena. They embraced and hugged each other, softly carressing each other with the tips of their fingers. The new year would bring interesting opportunities to them, but this was just their night. They blanked out the cheerful people around them and focused on each other. The simple stroke of a fingertip over the fabric of Helena's coat. A soft kiss behind Myka's ear and the warm breath following it. Skin on skin shivering in anticipation of what would follow.

Everything was alright.  
____________________________________________

At 2:30 in the morning, the last guests left Helena Wells' apartment. Charles and Mrs. Frederic wanted to visit the aftershow party of some New Year Eve orchestra concert. Pete had agreed to drive Artie home. Currently, Myka and Helena said goodbye to Claudia, who held drunk Leena in her arms.

"I love all your guitar solos." The personal assistant mumbled. "And I'll make you as much ice tea as you want."

The redhead softly padded her back while leading her into the lift. "Of course you do, Leena." She looked at the couple. "I think the cab is already waiting downstairs. I will make sure she'll find her bed."

Myka nodded. "Take good care of her." She said and shot a slightly amused glimpse at the intoxicated personal assistant.

"I'll do." Claudia waved and pressed a button in the armature. "Good night, you two." The lift doors closed and Myka turned around to lean against them. Her hands rested on the cold metal behind her back. She gazed at Helena, who sat in a short distance in front of her. A slight smile covered the Brit's face. All night's tension was suddenly condensed between them.

"I thought they would never go." The pianist whispered, her voice low.

"I know, they seemed to want to stay forever." Myka swallowed as she realised that the other woman enjoyingly eyed her features. Helena's gaze wandered over the American's body, up to her face. As their eyes met, they both reached forwards to close the gap between them. Myka bent over and leaned into the other woman's body. Their needy lips crashed together, while hands brushed over fabric and skin. Helena's arms embraced Myka and pulled her closer, into her lap. She softly covered the therapist's neck with warm kisses. As she felt the American's nimble hands working on the buttons of her blouse, the pianist whispered huskily into her ear. "I have a bedroom."

Myka quietly mewled at the composer's breath on her neck. "I know." She replied. After she had brushed her lips over Helena's clavicle, she pulled back. "Lead me."

The therapist knew what she wanted to say, but it meant so much more to both of them. The pianist nodded understandingly. She suggested her girlfriend to follow her.

Myka had no eyes for the furniture or the size of pianist's bedroom. Her mind was occupied by the other woman who immediately lifted herself out of the wheelchair and onto the bed. She watched Helena shift and adjust herself on the sheets. Myka swallowed while facing the composer's moving curves. Helena smiled shyly and held out a hand towards Myka. "Join me?"

The therapist walked to the bed and crawled towards the other woman. As she snuggled against her, the pianist pulled her even closer and kissed her softly. She carefully took Myka's hand and entwined their fingers. "I'll guide you." Helena declared softly and placed her hand for a second time on her own thigh. Hesitantly, the American brushed her hands over the fabric of the pianist pants, who softly moaned in response. They looked into each other's eyes, finding the desire in them. Helena pushed her upper body onto Myka's, her hands slowly finding their way under her shirt. With the therapist's help, she pulled it away. Placing soft kisses to the brunette's cleavage, the composer opened her bra. When the fabric was gone, the motion of Helena's lips on Myka's breasts became more centered. They found a nipple and softly caressed it with the help of her tongue. In reaction, the therapist moaned and leaned over to begin undressing her lover.

Helena's skin was milky and soft. Myka covered her body with kisses, she introduced it to the tip of her tongue, which caused the pianist to gasp. Pulling all the fabric away she had unbuttoned, she found the scar on the composer's stomach. She leaned over to gently brush her lips over it. Helena's hands clinched onto brunette curls. "Myka."

"Every part of you." The American said and smiled at the goosebumps her breath caused on the pianist's skin.

Soon their pants and undergarments joined their shirts on the ground. After she allowed Myka to face the beauty of her body, Helena pulled her close to let ther lips and tongues meet. There was no more space left between them. Slowly, the pianist's skilled hand wandered down between the therapist's legs. Myka moaned in return. She closed her eyes and threw her head back. The composer carefully watched her and payed attention to every reaction her touch caused in the other woman. Quivering, the brunette rocked her hips against her lover's hand. Helena smiled at Myka's loss of control. And her smile brightened as she became aware of the therapist's whole body moving against her own. Their lips met again and again, allowed their tongues to play. Myka's hand wandered down the composer's body, between her legs and carefully stroked the soft skin she found there. Her lover moaned loudly. Myka could feel Helena's fingernails dig into the skin of her back, where they had just caressed the graceful curve of her spine. She gasped at the slight pain, quivering and trembling under the pianist's hands.

As time passed their motions intensified, becoming less rhythmic but more aimed. Something inside the therapist loosened watching the pianist tense and relax under her hands. Helena clearly showed what pleased her even though her lower muscles didn't indicate it. Myka could feel her shiver as the pianist tumbled over the edge of their lust. The Brit groaned and dug her nails deeper into the therapist's skin. Her head was thrown back, hair almost unruly spread on the pillow.

Not stopping the movement of her right hand, Helena pulled her lover closer and kissed her. She looked deeply into the brunette's green eyes. The pianist's left hand snagged one of her curls away. She gently caressed the neck of the heavily breathing woman who hovered over her. Softly, Helena stroked the skin of Myka's breast and played with its soft but hardened nipple.

And then, Myka let go. Her tension vanished in one big flush. She lost her view of Helena's face, closed her eyes instead and clung onto the sheet's fabric. Her head fell down into the pillow next to the pianist, who smirked proudly at the muffled moan. The composer raised up both hands to carefully fondle the skin of Myka's back. She waited for the therapist's breath to slowly calm down.

Myka pulled her head up from the pillow and faced her lover. The Brit pulled her into a soft kiss. She wrapped her arms around the American's neck and let her shift so she could place her head on the pianist's neck.

Helena's right hand softly caressed Myka's back while she entwined the fingers of their left ones.

Somewhere outside a delayed firework disturbed the silence they shared. Myka chuckled and nuzzled her nose on Helena's skin.

"Well, that was badly timed." The Brit laughed. Myka sat up to cover them both with a sheet.

"I liked our firework better." She declared.


	8. To Polish

"Oh crap!" Myka exclaimed and slid her hands nervously over her tablet. Helena shot a glimpse over her clipboard at her. "Is everything alright, darling?" She asked amused.

They were in the park, Myka in a camp chair next to her girlfriend. Both women wore sunglasses and shirts. There were also three other chairs which belonged to Leena, Claudia and Pete. But they were empty, due to the fact that the three of them currently were throwing and catching balls on the big mowed lawn. It was the middle of May and for the first time of the year, it was warm enough to spend some time like this in the park.

"Yes,... yes,... yes." Myka muttered and eyed her tablet disappointedly. Helena raised her eyebrows but decided to continue working until the therapist herself would attempt to explain her behaviour. The pianist was currently busy writing notes on blank music sheets.

"What are you doing?" Myka asked apparently to avoid talking about the reason for her cursing.

"Nothing important." Helena grinned to herself and went on writing.

Pete missed catching the softball Claudia had thrown towards him and under a loud "HG! BAAAALL!" yelled by Leena, it flew in the composers direction. She easily caught it with her left hand, raising an eyebrow at Pete who walked towards her.

"Sorry!" He said and took it back.

"HG, I didn't know you were left handed." The policeman sounded confused.

"I'm not."

"But you-"

"Peter, I'm a pianist. We skill both our hands until perfection." Helena said naturally.

Myka giggled while still being ill at ease with her work on the tablet.

"So if your hands are both so perfectly skilled, how about coming over and throwing balls too?" Pete asked and both women rolled their eyes at his tone of voice.

"You're just trying to find a sport you can beat me in after your disaster with the wheelchair." The pianist assumed.

Pete shrugged. "Maybe. I definitely want a revenge."

"You already had two." Myka proclaimed.

"But-"

"Both lost." Helena explained. "At the second time you said you skilled your technique. I saw no progress in this."

"Yeah... what about... playing ball?" Pete dropped the subject and pointed at Leena and Claudia, who both stood close to each other in a short distance on the meadow and watched them with crossed arms.

"No, thank you Peter, I'm perfectly fine enjoying myself here." The pianist answered his question.

"Afraid I could beat you?"

"No. I payed attention to the fact that you were just unable to catch the ball Claudia threw. You must have seen that I caught it rather easily." Helena looked back at her clipboard. "I'm quite busy here."

Pete huffed in disappointment but walked back to his playmates.

"Maybe you should give him this satisfaction." Myka shrugged, her gaze pinned on her tablet.

"Satisfying Peter is not in my intention, Myka." The pianist smirked and watched her girlfriend blush under her sunglasses.

They spend the next minutes silent. Minutes in which Helena calmly wrote on her sheet and Myka anxiously eyed her tablet. She had sucked her lower lip between her teeth and looked nervously at her watch.

Soon the pianist quietly hummed a melody.

"Something I know?" The therapist asked.

"I would assume not." Helena smugly replied. She took a deep breath to go on speaking but was interrupted by Myka's next curse.

"I'm rather surprised by your choice of words." Helena declared. "What horrifies you so much?"

With a huff, Myka put her tablet into the backpack next to her. "Ebay." She said.

Helena glared at her. "What are we doing on Ebay?"

"I tried to purchase something. But somebody outbid me. On both auctions." The therapist sighed in disapproval.

"What did you try to buy?" The pianist put her pencil down.

"Uhm..."

"Darling?"

Myka cleared her throat. "A guitar."

"Another one?" Helena's eyes widened under her sunglasses. "I counted four guitars in your office and three in your flat."

"And I counted over 400 books in both of our apartments and this doesn't keep us from buying more." Myka pulled a bottle of water out her bag and opened it to drink. She rolled her eyes under Helena's piercing gaze and swallowed her drink.

"I do like guitars. What's the problem?"

"Nothing, dear. I just pondered over the circumstance that I've never heard you playing one." The pianist tilted her head. "I know I heard other things from you, but never your guitar playing."

Her girlfriend leaned back in her chair. "I guess you're right. I didn't realise that."

Helena shrugged. "We should change that."

"Shall I stand under thy window and pluck my lute for thee?" Myka smiled.

"I was rather talking about playing together." The pianist explained. "In company of others."

Myka furrowed her eyebrows and turned her head to face Helena. "Like a concert?"

The composer narrowed her eyes and pondered over this.

"Yes." She finally said. "Yes. Like a concert."

"With what kind of audience?" The therapist asked, now seriously intrigued.

"Oh, I don't know." Helena looked at her friends on the meadow. "Those three classical piano music lovers." She pursed her lip. "Charles, Mrs. Frederic, Artie. We could invite your parents."

Her girlfriend groaned. "You want to meet them again? I'm still recovering from last time we visited them."

"They loved me!"

"I think you should nurse your hand before that day. My sister will probably bring a hundred more autograph cards she needs you to sign. Just for personal use, surely."

They grinned at each other.

"We could invite Mr. Jinks, too. He hasn't heard me properly playing piano yet." Helena suggested after a while.

"Yeah, I think he would like that."

"Just promise me you won't be all 'who knows more about psychoanalysis' with him, darling." The pianist amusedly raised an eyebrow and Myka rolled her eyes.

"How is he by the way?" The therapist asked and pulled a book out of her backpack.

Helena looked down to her notes. "I think he fears for his job."

"What do you mean?" Instead of opening her book, the brunette looked at her girlfriend.

"Well, last week he told me 'Miss Wells, currently you're not depressed' and now I think he's concerned about being unable to pay for his Porsche." Helena spoke casually and smirked.

The therapist instantly dropped her book. "He said that? Helena, therapists use to say this when they think you're mostly out of the woods." She reached over to hug the pianist. "You start healing."

The composer leaned into the touch. She softly kissed he skin on Myka's neck. "Well, I think the worst is done. Now it's time to look forward and make sure it better stays like this. There's still a long way to go."

Myka sighed. "Yes, it is."

After a brief time of holding each other, they pulled apart. Myka picked up her book and opened it.

"So your guitars, darling?" Helena asked.

"Well, outbid on both auctions. I think there goes my wish for another classical guitar." The therapist sighed.

"Shall I look for one?" The Brit suggested.

"Oh, Helena, please no. You don't need to buy me guitars. This is a thing between the guitars and me." The pianist could hear that Myka was very serious about this. She nodded with a grin.

"Something different then?"

"Helena G-" The softball landed in Myka's lap. She rolled her eyes and took it. But she made no attempt to throw it back. Instead, she firmly eyed her girlfriend. "You don't need to buy me things."

The Brit faked disappointment but then leaned over to kiss the other woman.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Claudia yelled. "The ball. And hands where I can see them!" Myka and Helena didn't pull apart. Their lips stayed linked for a while until they opened their eyes and grinned at each other. Pete whistled.

"Attack?" Myka quickly asked.

"Attack." The pianist replied.

The American instantly jumped up from her chair, while Helena put her clipboard away and loosened the brakes of her wheelchair.

"We're going to show you how to play this right." Myka announced and threw the softball forcefully and perfectly aimed at Claudia.  
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Myka quickly entered Helena's living room and placed her guitar next to the piano. It was time for personal pep talk. She could do this. She was good in this. She loved playing guitar. This was just a small audience of people she knew so she didn't have to worry. They had practiced. Helena had made sure that their timing was perfect. The therapist would be playing with one of the best pianists in the world. So what could go wrong? If Myka would mess anything up, she was sure her girlfriend would easily cover her.

The living room looked quite different than usual. Pete and Artie had put all furniture into Helena's office. And somehow they had managed to get the grande piano out of the office and into the living room. Afterwards they had tried to press Helena into not putting it back after the concert because, like Pete put it "Thing's too damn heavy even if it's on wheels and your doors aren't big enough."

They had put chairs in rows in front of the grande piano, just like they all were a real audience for a real concert. Myka knew that this was somehow practice for Helena, even though the real audience in concert halls was far bigger than here. For Myka, those few people were enough to make her nervous. She sat down in the first row of chairs and chewed her nails.

Well, better stop that now, her nails were currently quite perfect for playing the guitar and she didn't want to ruin anything. She's played her piece for weeks now and had even tried to talk Helena into more practicing or just listening to her parts of Boccerini's Fandango. After a while the Brit had almost been annoyed by her girlfriend. It was Helena's first try to go back into a concert like situation and Myka was more worried about messing things up than her.

"You're a professional musician, Helena!"

"You're a professional musician too, Myka." The pianist had smirked and eyed her while the therapist played a part of the piece for the sixth time in a row. "You're just earning your money in a slightly different way."

"My handwork is sloppy." Myka had run her hands through her hair.

"No, it isn't. I'm completely aware of the fact that I've made you nervous the day I said that." Softly the Brit had pulled her onto the couch towards herself.

"Thank you for admitting this now." Myka had said and nuzzled her nose into the other woman's neck.

"Darling, Boccherini himself couldn't possibly play this better than you."

"Yeah, because he was a cellist!"

This was the point where Helena interrupted Myka with a kiss to silence her and it had worked. The pianist had a calming influence on her.

After a moment, the American had pulled back. "I just want it to be perfect, Helena. For you. I'm afraid to mess your first concert up."

"Oh, Myka. You are perfect for me. I really don't care if you play something wrong or not. It makes me proud and happy that you want to join me on the stage."

The guests in Helena Wells' apartment had firstly met in the big kitchen to chat and eat a little. Myka's parents were as always intrigued by their daughter's girlfriend. Helena was charming and she did her best to impress the Berings. It showed that Myka's father had the same love for books as his daughter and their girlfriend. Literature was a huge topic for all three of them. Jeannie Bering transferred her intention from trying to get food into Myka over to Helena. All the time she had been secretly putting more canapés on the Brit's plate when Helena wasn't looking. Myka was sure the pianist recognised this but didn't say a word. And then there was Tracy, scanning Helena's apartment and the furniture in it from one side to the other and being completely overwhelmed by it.

Right now they were all coming over to the living room. Claudia took place next to Leena and glared at Mr. Jinks in front of them. Myka was sure there was something between these two, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Mr. Jinks anxiously swallowed and focused on Helena who positioned herself in front of them, next to the piano. Mrs. Frederic showed her usual authority while she took place between Artie and Charles. Pete didn't know if he should sit next to Myka or not. But then his gaze wandered to Artie and Mrs. Frederic in the first row, so he decided to sit on Claudia's other side. The Berings thought it's a good idea to sit between their daughter and the other elderly people in the group.

There were also a few people Myka didn't know. But Claudia seemed to be very close to them, so the therapist assumed they were with her. She allowed her view to wander through the room and in a short distance to the piano, she recognised the drums, the keyboard, and the electric guitars and all the technic devices they had... Could it be?

"Well, then." Helena said and her voice suddenly got an official tone. "I'm very happy that you all could make it and came even if I will only play classic piano music."

Claudia, Leena and Pete quietly giggled.

"I'm proud to tell you that I won't be the only person playing tonight. My beautiful girlfriend Myka will help me out a little later. We'll play Boccerini, Fandango for piano and guitar. And afterwards, there will be more modern music. Claudia tried for years now to talk me into visiting one of her band's concerts. I called myself rather lucky to be able to avoid this, but since I'm quite forcing her now into visiting one of my concerts, I shall give her this pleasure in return." The pianist grinned as Claudia yelled a loud "HA!"

"So we have all members of 'The Artifacts' today in my flat. What a wonderful coincidence. I hope the Berings don't mind."

"We will rock this house, HG!" Claudia shouted.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure you will. But first, we will enjoy proper music. I will start with Liszt, 'Tarantelle de la Muette de Potici'. Myka said this piece fits me very well in technique, skill and 'artfulness'. I believe her. Oh, and Mrs. Frederic, if you see my old friend Hamelin anytime soon, send him my best regards." After shooting a glimpse at Mrs. Frederic, Helena looked directly into the therapist's eyes. Myka grinned.

Without hesitation, Helena hid her special device in her cheek and positioned herself behind the piano. She stared for a few seconds at the keys. Myka could instantly see the insecurity on the pianist's shoulder. For the part of a second, the therapist was afraid, but then the composer placed her fingers on the keys and started playing.

In those ten minutes she played, Myka saw another Helena. The piece was fast and needed skill. Sometimes it was more melodic and harmonic, but still, the combination of notes were hard. Myka knew how much work Helena's hands were doing on the keys. Astonished, she stared at her girlfriend's hands and the wonders they were doing. The music coming from the piano filled the whole room. Everyone stared at the pianist in awe. Even Pete looked like someone had just bought him his favourite food.

For the time Helena played, Myka forgot her anxiety about her own performance. Instead she just listened to her love playing piano. Her heart pounded in her chest like it wanted to jump out and join the pianist in front of the audience. The therapist was sure this woman was hers, the best that happened to her. No replacement, no different version of Sam could make her feel better. Helena was unique. She was Myka's Helena. And she played piano like a goddess.  
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Myka nervously eyed the audience in front of her. She sat on small chair in front of the piano with her music stand in front of her feet. It wasn't like she needed it but she felt safer having it. Her fingers sweated and she hoped the guitar wouldn't slip out of her hand. When did she become so nervous about playing in front of audience? She had done it so often as a young girl, because it had been part of learning the instrument. And now...

It couldn't be because of her parents. They have always been in the audience when Myka had an important play.

Maybe it was because of Charles and Mrs. Frederic. They had fancier classical music skills and were familiar with this world.

It was because she wanted to please Helena. To be perfect for her. And Helena had explained that this wasn't necessary. But still... Myka cared so much for her.

The therapist closed her eyes and tried to remember the meditation techniques she used to show her patients. Maybe this was the time to start with them herself. Her girlfriend cleared her throat behind her and instantly, Myka turned around. The pianist currently couldn't properly articulate herself because of the device in her cheek, but she looked directly into Myka's eyes. It calmed her down. A little.

Helena smiled softly and then mouthed at her. 'I'll lead you.' She nodded. 'I got you.'

Myka took a deep breath and then she nodded her head for a silent countdown.

The first part of the piece was a rather slow introduction. Myka looked at her notes and concentrated on her part. She had the feeling she could lose Helena a little here. But the melodic sound of the way her love played reminded her why she was doing this. The therapist looked up into the audience. The Berings listened in awe. Mrs. Frederic and Charles smiled softly at her. Mr. Jinks' gaze was fixed on Helena, while Claudia and Leena smilingly raised their thumbs at Myka. Pete seemed to be a little bored because he looked at his nails.

There was this short moment when both instruments went silent before the real part of the piece started. Myka grinned. It was a good thing she had an eidetic memory so she could watch Pete instead of looking at the music sheet.

The sound of Helena's quickly played notes pulled the policeman out of his distraction. Immediately he looked up at the two women behind the instruments. This piece needed good timing which Myka and Helena obviously had. It mirrored their energy, the tension between them and the pleasure and joy they had in each other. There were more careful parts in which the piano and the guitar seemed to shyly talk with each other. And then there were parts where Myka stroke her hands over the strings instead of plucking them. All her anxiety melted away during those parts. It seemed like the piano and the guitar tried to outvoice each other while still being a whole thing.

When Helena moved her hands away from the keys to pull out the tonewoods she had hidden between her legs, the therapist turned her head and looked with an open-mouthed grin at her. The pianist raised her eyebrows in approval and smiled back. Their eyes met and Myka's heart fluttered. She felt pleasure in making music with Helena. This piece was played for the audience, but the music were just for the two of them.

Quickly, the pianist put the tonewoods back where she got them from and continued playing.

They gracefully ended the piece in an explosion of notes.

Claudia stared at them. She quickly swallowed and leaned over to Pete.

"I'm pretty sure they just had sex on their instruments." The girl whispered.

He looked at her. "Eeeeew."

"And if they hadn't already literally done it on the piano, they will tonight."

Leena looked like she was in pain. "I'm more than sure they already did."

"Girls, stop this talk, I'm happy for them and all, but this is another case for too-much-information-man!" Pete plucked his fingers into his ears. "LALALALA!"

A few minutes later, Claudia took the microphone on the temporary stage. "Okay, after we've endured this, my guys and me are ready to reply with real music. We planned to cover a few more popular songs so you guys could actually dance a little, but since Myka told me punk rock wasn't 'her cup of tea', this song is just for her and HG." She looked at the Brit. "It actually has three guitar solos."

Leena cheered. Claudia stepped back from the microphone to give space to Todd, the vocalist of her band. She grinned because she was already used to Helena's death glares.

When the song which had just been played to torture Myka and Helena ended, they started a cover version of 'Streets of Philadelphia'. Leena immediately jumped up and pulled Pete into the empty space of the living room to dance with him.

Helena leaned over to her girlfriend in the chair next to her.

"You were marvellous, darling." She whispered directly into her ear. Myka shivered and turned her head to reply with a smile. "We were marvellous. And Helena, you played wonderfully."

The Brit nodded. She looked up to face the green eyes of the therapist. "Would you like to share a dance with me? I mean, just us, maybe here in our chairs?"

Myka kissed her softly and then pulled her closer. "This is where I lead." She said.


	9. Repaired

More than one and a half year had passed since the musical therapist Myka Bering had invaded the office of the famous pianist Helena G. Wells. More than one and a half year were gone since they had looked at each other and were instantly intrigued. In this time they had taken care for each other, held each other, and let each other deeper into their own lives.

And now Myka sat in a part of Helena's former life that would also be part of their future lives. From her place in the concert hall, she stared up into the loge and nervously eyed the audience, which she thought was far too huge for her own taste. The people were currently involved in their conversations with each other, sometimes they shot a few glimpses at the stage and the piano on it and raised their eyebrows or shrugged. They were excited about seeing the great pianist Helena Wells play for the first time after her car accident. Even though they all knew what happened, Myka was sure they had no idea what this day really meant for the woman.

Myka wore her purple dress because she knew Helena liked it. The therapist smiled at the thought of the shine in her love's eyes when the pianist had seen her again in this dress.

"What does the G. stand for?" Pete asked and waved the playbill in his hand. "I mean I even looked her up on Wikipedia and it wasn't written there? Why is she making such a thing out of the G?" The policeman looked at his best friend who showed him an amused smirk. He was wearing a tuxedo and he looked really good in it, although he kept complaining about the bow tie hurting his neck.

Pete leaned forwards in his chair. "You know what that G. stands for, am I right, Mykes?"

Myka shrugged. "Maybe."

Immediately, Claudia shot forwards in her chair next to Pete and glared at the therapist. "You know?! How can you know? I know her for..." She waved her hands. "Years now and she hasn't told me. It's just one and a half year with you and she tells you her middle name?"

Pete squinted his eyes. "Not even Wikipedia knows it. It must be something really awful."

The therapist laughed out loud.

"Gloria." Pete suggested and Myka shook her head. She made a locking gesture in front of her mouth and shrugged.

Leena sighed from her place next to Claudia. "I know her middle name." Instantly, the redhead and the policeman turned their heads.

"I'm her best friend." Claudia said. "She hasn't told me yet. Why do you know?"

The personal assistant showed her innocent face. "I sometimes do her paperwork."

"Gerpugis." Pete stared at Leena.

"Listen guys, if you want to know Miss Wells' name, go ask her yourselves." Mr. Jinks said from his place right to Myka.

Pete's and Claudia's heads did another turn, this time to the right side.

"Jinksy, do you know?" The girl was indignant.

"You promised to stop calling me this." The man replied. "And yes, I know. I'm her therapist."

"Geraldine." Pete said.

Myka's fist quickly reached forward. "Ow!"

"Pete, I'm not going to tell you her middle name. If you want to know it, go ask her. Not right now. Now she's probably talking to Mrs. Frederic and Charles."

"It must be something really awful. You and your girlfriend are surely the couple with the strangest middle names." Pete declared.

Myka sighed and fiddled with the band around her left ring finger. In the end, there was one thing Helena had managed to buy her. But it wasn't the right time to make the announcement that 'girlfriend' was an outdated term.

"Oh, there's Mrs. Frederic! It begins." Claudia leaned forward and stared at the right side of the row. "Somebody wake Artie."

Mr. Jinks carefully padded the piano teacher's shoulder. "Mr. Nielsen, the concert starts."

In reaction to the applause, Artie jolted up in his chair. He looked around, quite confused for a short time, then he started applauding as well.

Mrs. Frederic welcomed everyone to the benefit concert. She held a brief speech about the occasion of it and the possibility of a donation afterwards. Then she smiled proudly and looked at the piano.

"We all know many of you came because of the announcement of a special guest today." She spoke. "And I don't want to keep you in suspense about her. More than four years ago, Helena Wells disappeared from the world of piano music and was badly missed. We all know from which causes this lack in our world happened and I'm more than happy and proud to announce her back tonight. Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Helena G. Wells." The audience started applauding. Mrs. Frederic stepped back from the microphone as Helena appeared on the stage. A wondering murmur went through the concert hall.

"Gargantua" Pete whispered.

"Pete, that's not even a real name." The therapist hissed.

For a brief moment, the pianist eyed the audience, found Myka in it and smiled. Helena wore a green dress and looked wonderful in it.

Quickly, she spun the wheels of her wheelchair to move towards Mrs. Frederic. They shook hands and greeted each other with a quick kiss on both cheeks. The older woman adjusted the microphone for the younger woman, nodded and disappeared behind the stage.

The murmur was louder now. Myka turned around in her chair and became aware of the startled faces from the viewers.

"Good evening." Helena's voice sounded from the loudspeakers and immediately, the crowd went silent.

"I'm glad you all have now calmed down from spotting my appearance. It's a good feeling to finally be back on stage again. But your excited murmuring shows me that you're quite surprised about the fact that I'm not standing in front of you tonight but already sitting." She smirked and took a breath.

"We all know why it is like this. More than four years ago I had a car accident. A really bad one. My beloved daughter Christina died that day and I ended up in this wheelchair." She allowed her view to wander over the audience. "There are things about this accident you didn't know so far. That I'm in this wheelchair, for example. For those years after it I kept asking myself if it was my fault. If I could have done something differently so this whole tragedy won't have happened. I punished myself for the loss of my daughter and hid myself from the world.

This is why you all haven't seen me in the last years. Because I buried myself in my own grief." Helena raised her right hand slightly and fiddled with the locket on her necklace. The audience showed an attentive silence. Myka glanced at Pete to her right side, who had pursed his lips into one straight line.

"The truth is that there's only one person responsible for this accident. And this person is not me. It's the man who decided that day to drive his car while being drunk. And I couldn't have done anything to change it. Nothing will bring back my Christina."

The pianist lowered her gaze to the ground, and for a few seconds, her eyes looked empty. Myka recognised the slight quiver of her lower lip.

"It took me a long time to accept this. Accepting that I'm not responsible for this took even longer. What took me the longest was to learn to live with this hole that was teared into my heart. A smart and outstanding woman once told me that we can't fill those holes in our hearts. We can't erase them either. Those holes always stay and we have to learn to accept them and to live with them... and that one day we might even be able to love them." She made a brief pause and looked at the still completely silent audience.

"We need to heal from them. And for this it is important that we choose recovery. It is important that we allow ourselves to let people into our lives who love us and who love the holes in our hearts." Now Helena smiled to herself.

"I'm very proud to tell you that I have managed this. The woman who told me this is currently sitting in the audience. She's showing one of her wonderful smiles that show me that I and the burden on my shoulders are loved. And her proud eyes are filled with tears of joy, because she knows that I have been able to forgive myself.

All I want to say right now is that I'm so grateful for this woman and for how she fought her way into my life." Helena had to make a pause because the audience suddenly started applauding. Myka sunk deeper into her chair. Everything the pianist had said about her smiling and crying was right.

When the audience calmed down again, Helena raised one of her hands above her head and opened it to show the device she had hidden in it.

"This is a device I need to be able to play the piano. People in the backmost rows probably aren't able to see it, because it's rather small. The truth is that my legs are paralysed and for a long time I used this circumstance as an excuse to not play piano anymore." She smirked. "I don't know how familiar you are with pianos, but there are pedals under it you need to operate with your feet."

This caused the audience to laugh.

"Modern technology gives me the opportunity to show you that I'm still quite a good pianist. The only problem is that I have to hide this device in my mouth and while doing this, proper articulation isn't very possible. So this is why I'm talking to you now to tell you what I'm going to play and why I'm going to play this, instead of between the pieces as I usually did. I know my brother wants me to play Bach and it's probably also written on the playbills, but well, we all know I'm quite eccentric and I like to change things in the last moment. Tonight I'm going to play pieces from musicians who were important parts of my life in the last year.

Which is Mendelssohn 'Lieder ohne Worte op. 30 nr. 1", Chopin 'Nocturne op 9 nr. 2' and Liszt 'Tarantelle de la Muette de Potici'."

The audience applauded again and Helena smiled brightly. "Some people might also remember that I'm quite a good composer. My brother Charles keeps telling me this so I will start writing again, so he can finally pay the rent for his new apartment." She waited for the audience's laughter to stop. "Well, I did him a favour and wrote a composition, however it was not for him but for this special person in my life. You might recognise some stylistic elements from Chopin. That's because she has a thing for Chopin and I'm quite willing to please her."

Myka blushed in a red almost as bright as her chair's. Was Helena seriously putting innuendo into her speech?

"Well, this is where I stop talking and start playing, because Mrs. Frederic told me that I'm not the only one on the program tonight. Just a quick note, as I said, I won't really be able to comment on my playing between the pieces so some admirer of piano music may not recognise where the one piece stops and the other begins and where they should applaud (because they're used to the pianist talking inbetween them). The piece is over when I take both my hands away from the keys." She made a gesture to support her words and the audience giggled. "Maybe I can help you a little out at this point. Let's say I will smile at you and then wave my hand or something. So you know it's over. And the next piece starts when I put my hands back on the keys and you hear the music of a completely different composer."

Under the audience's laughter, Helena pulled back from the microphone and moved over to position herself behind the piano. Her view again wandered over to Myka, who showed her a bright smile. With nimble hands, Helena placed her device into her mouth. Then she folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes. She needed to concentrate, Myka had seen this behaviour already in those youtube videos she had watched a long time ago.

After a few seconds in which it was completely quiet in the concert hall, Helena placed her fingers on the keys and started playing Mendelssohn.

Now Myka breathed in relief. She didn't have to worry about anything once the pianist started playing. Helena now was in her element. She did what she was good in. Her eyes glistened while being pinned on the keys, her lips in a slight smile, while her fingers danced over the keys.

Myka knew Helena felt safe while playing. She also knew that Helena wasn't completely healed yet. That she still suffered from her loss and that those holes in her heart still hurt. But Myka was sure that the Brit was making progress and part of it was being the famous pianist Helena Wells who played piano in front of all these people in a concert hall. And Helena Wells showed her best part tonight.  
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In her office, Helena sat in the empty space between her desk and her couch. She allowed her gaze to wander through the room. It rested on the desk first and a slight smile appeared on her lips. Then she looked over to the couch and her eyes glistened. Intensively, she eyed her office door and her face brightened. Now she leaned back in her wheelchair, threw her head back and laughed. She wouldn't miss any part of this room at all. As she moved over to the window she spotted an object on the ground. It was a foam ball. The pianist rolled her eyes, moved next to the ball and leaned over to pick it up from the ground. In thought, she kneaded it while moving over to the window, spinning one wheel of her chair just with the help of her right arm. She took her time to look out of the window, watching the people in the streets walking around, and stared for a few seconds at the park in a short distance. Then the composer pulled back.

Her office doors opened.

"Dad asks if you want the grande piano in our living room or in your office. He says he will only move it once and then never again so you should make your decision now." This time, Myka didn't catch the foam ball Helena threw at her. It was because she held a big box with Helena's music trophies in her hand and refused to drop it.

"Is that the foam ball?" Myka eyed the object landing on the ground. "I thought I would never see this thing again."

"Somebody must have dropped it while collecting my things." The pianist replied.

Myka sighed and put the box down to open it and place the foam ball inside. "Well, I made sure we take it with us. It will get a special place in the living room where everybody can see the object you threw at me at our first meeting."

"You really had a very impressive way of catching." Helena smirked.

"Well, I think my way of talking impressed you far more than my way of catching a simple foam ball." The therapist closed the box and moved over to the couch to sit down.

"Are you alright?" She asked and shot a concerned look at her fiancee. The pianist smiled and moved over to the couch. She carefully spread Myka's legs to position herself between them. Then she leaned closer and kissed her passionately. The American smiled into the kiss and replied with equal passion. Playfully, she wrapped her arms around the other woman's hip and pulled her out of her wheelchair and into her lap. Helena yelped but then grinned mischievously. She gripped for the couch's back and shifted her weight so Myka had to lean back in the couch. During the kiss, the pianist's hands wandered over the fabric of the therapist's clothes. Myka furrowed her eyebrows and pulled back from the kiss. "Helena, Pete will be back with the moving guys any minute."

"You started this, Mrs. soon-to-be-Bering-Wells." Helena whispered into her ear and Myka shivered as the pianist's hand found the edge of her shirt.

"Helena. Oh god." Myka closed her eyes. "Stop it now. We have to help the others."

With a fake pout the composer stopped the motion of her hand. "Oh, you're no fun at all, Myka."

"Well, I promise I will be more fun in our first night in our new house, okay?" The therapist smiled softly.

"Promised?" Helena raised an eyebrow and her hand wandered again.

Myka loudly inhaled air. "Yes." She breathed. "Yes, promised."

With a grin, the Brit pulled back. The therapist helped her back into her wheelchair.

"Well." Myka spoke while standing up. "Do we have everything? Shelves clear, drawers clear, cupboards clear?"

"My office room is completely empty. Except for the furniture." Helena replied and allowed her view to wander through the room for the last time.

"Good, so Pete and the moving guys can finally take care of it. I think they're glad the grande piano from the living room is already gone." Myka bent down to pick up the box she carried.

"Ready to go?" She smiled at her fiancee.

Helena nodded. "More than ready, darling."

They left the office room and positioned themselves in front of the lift. Helena called it since Myka's hands were still occupied by the box she had. The pianist shot a last glimpse at the flat she was about to leave forever. She nodded. It felt right.

In the lift, the couple grinned at each other.

"So, I will talk with him." The composer spoke.

"Just because you want all the fun for yourself." Myka replied.

"I wanted to have fun upstairs and you refused."

"Helena!"

The lift door opened and the pianist quickly spun her wheels to leave it, followed by Myka with the box.

Helena moved over to the reception and cleared her throat so the portier recognised her. He leaned over the counter and smiled at her. "Miss Wells."

The pianist placed her keys on the reception's counter. "Take these and please hand them to Mr. Lattimer when he comes back and wants access to my flat. He'll need them. Also make sure he puts them back after leaving." She spoke.

"Alright, Miss Wells."

"I'm going to catch some fresh air for a really long time." Helena went on and grinned.

The portier nodded. "I wish you very much fun."

Helena nodded and moved back from the counter. The portier glanced at the keys. "Miss Wells, my colleague will take over in an hour." He said.

The pianist didn't answer, instead she kept on moving towards the automatic doors.

"Uh." Myka shrugged. "I think you have to give him the keys. Miss Wells will catch fresh air for a really long time." She unsuccessfully tried to hide her smile.

"How long?" The portier asked and the therapist grinned.

"Oh, maybe like... forever." She replied and spun on her heels to follow Helena through the automatic doors of the apartment tower.

The End


End file.
